There's something about God's math. I don't really get it and it doesn't seem to make sense. I don't know, maybe He's all Common Core up there or something. But He works things out and multiplies things in ways that don't seem to work out right on paper or in my head.
Take, for instance, those stories you hear about people who let go of their claim on their money and make an effort to tithe at least ten percent to the point of real sacrifice. Things always seem to work out and you constantly hear about them getting it back and more so. (It's true.)
Or the way that when you really try to reclaim Sundays for rest and worship because that's what He says to do, somehow everything on the to-do list still gets done. You hear people talking about their time multiplying and their work time becoming more fruitful when they make the choice to intentionally keep the Sabbath.
And then there's the babies. My math tells me that more babies should equal less time and energy to spend on appreciating them and giving them the attention they need. My math says that they should be less interesting by now, the whole experience a little more dull and tedious. After all, this is my fifth. But instead? Instead, each subsequent baby I have seems to do the opposite. With each one I've had a greater and greater awareness of the incredible gift that they are and a soul-deep appreciation for this time. It doesn't seem to make sense but with each one, I relish it more. The work increases yes, but the joy exponentially so.
I don't know, maybe I'm on the verge becoming one of those little old ladies in the grocery store with their forlorn eyes and ominous warnings. It goes so fast, you know. Appreciate what's right in front of you before it's gone. I've never been one to resent those reminders since oh my, there are rough days when I need them so. I try to honor their wisdom and recognize that they have an experience that I don't. It certainly doesn't hurt me to take note. And with each baby I see more how right they are. I could choose to whine or complain or let it all fly by while I grit my teeth until it's over. Or I open my eyes right where I am and see what's right in front of me. Joy. Life. Beauty. Blessing. Gift. And so I choose to be awestruck at the beauty of the role that I get to play to this little child of His, to get to see again how they learn and delight and smile and love. What an incredible honor that is.
I love watching this littlest one of mine learn. The whole family will gather around and watch as he figures out how to work a toy or dance to music or as he experiences a swing for the first time. We get to find that place within us that delights at the simple and see it again through brand new eyes. And the same goes for each child as they grow their own way and encounter the world in a new and different way at each stage. With each one my hair is more silver, my bones a bit more tired, yes. But my eyes and heart feel brand new.