Crazy Love

I just finished writing back to a friend of mine who is thinking of having three children and was asking how that transition was from two kids to three kids.  It took all of a half a second to be emphatically and joyfully assuring to her that three kids made my life feel complete and I couldn't imagine life differently.  It's crazy alright, but crazy wonderful and I remembered back to one of those early and very common scenes of my life in some of those newborn years and things I learned then. . .  

The phone was wedged in between my shoulder and my ear, trying to take in and respond attentively to the conversation at hand, while I held three dirty diapers in one hand and 409 carpet cleaner in the other to clean up a mess from my dog as he urinated in the middle of howling at my previously screaming newborn who had finally fallen asleep and let me put her down in the swing.  Then my 3 year old slipped on a blanket, crashing into the swing, waking up the baby as he cried.  They both began a melodious concert of high pitched cries and screams that the dog soon again joined in as well.  My friend quickly excused me from our conversation where I then hugged my son, then picked up the baby, only to have a gush of projectile digested milk come pouring over me. At this moment I sat down, decorated in spit up, baby in hand and surrendered my sanity.  I started to feel the tears well up and then began to laugh uncontrollably at this wonderful, crazy life that I always wanted.  Unending chaos, bottomless laundry, dirty dishes abounding, hormones highly elevated and yet having these tiny fingers wrap around mine tightly, the crazy fades and I realize how much I love all of this, every moment of it.

            The hours seem to disappear and before I can blink it is bedtime.  Dinner is done, baths have been taken, prayers have been said and the routines are through, I realize I’m still breathing and can hear myself think.  Caleb has a long list that we go through every night:  Can you lay down with me and can we talk about things?  Can you rub my back for one minute? Can you keep checking on me?  If I have nightmares can I crawl in your bed?  Can you put water at the end of my bed and turn lullabies on?  And every night, I routinely answer yes to all of these requests.  As I fulfill my promise to check on them, I can’t help but well up with tender love as I kiss the cheeks of my sleeping miracles.  It’s during these rare, quiet moments that I understand why God calls me to be still and remember him. 

Psalm 46:10
"Be still and know that I am God"