Of baby cribs, holy altars, and sacred moments

I'm still getting used to this fatherhood thing. It's an amazing opportunity to be schooled in selflessness. Sometimes, however, if you listen just right you can hear the whisper of eternity in those teachable moments.

Tonight was a tough night for the little guy. He's very easily overstimulated, which always results in hours of crazy, mind bending crying. He gets so wound up that he freaks out. Not that big of a deal really, except that it's time for him to go to bed and he won't. Another thing about babies. They have this sucking reflex. Something about sucking really soothes them... hence the pacifier. The unfortunate thing is that they have HORRIBLE binky control. The thing they need the most is the thing they're most unable to handle. They cry for what seems like forever when the thing falls out. As soon as it goes back, they're fine, but 10 seconds later the thing comes rocketing out of their mouth... lather, rinse, repeat.

So last night I decide that I'm just going to spend some time with the little guy as he goes through the routine. He's cranky and a bit gassy (that's my boy!) but when he's got his passy, he's good to go. So I lay him in the crib, his face is away from me and I just watch. It was probalby 30 minutes or so that I was there, and it ended up being the neatest, most meaningful worship service I"ve had in a long time.

With his face away, we go through the aforementioned process of sucking and spitting the pacifier on the bed. He can't see me (I'm behind him), but every time it comes flying out, I pick it up and put it back in. In those moments, I sensed God tapping me on the shoulder.... "What do you notice here?" I didn't get it for a bit, but in the end, as best as I can tell, I got it... or atleast something. Little Jackson thinks that his binky is the most important thing in his world. When it goes away, life ceases to be comfortable. All the while, just out of sight, there I sat, ready to help and replace the binky if I could. There's no magic in the binky (metaphorically speaking). The power to soothe is in the one who is able to put the binky back.

I wonder what my pacifiers are. I wonder how many times I've sat sucking (figuratively, of course) at what I thought was salvation while the hand of Father was behind me all the time. In that moment I was humbled by Father's love. I was humbled by His grace. Rather than ripping so many of my comfort toys, He just continues to walk with me, comfort me, lead me, teach me. It's not always comfortable, and He's not always immediate in the way that He deals with me, just like I'm not with Jackson. But that doesn't indicate anything about my love for the little guy. I know that in the end, being without binky for 10 minutes isn't going to kill him, and it's probably a good idea to see if he can start to soothe himself without it.

God got bigger for me last night. He met me at the crib side, and showed me a glimpse of how He loves me. He reminded me that I was created for eternity, not just for instant gratification. There's really something to this whole "God is everywhere" thing.