Joy and Diapers

I love to write.  I don’t even care if anyone hears what I have to say, though I am extremely grateful to you that do listen.  I just really like to develop thoughts, ideas that teach me and reveal something greater than I saw before, knew before.  That’s why I love, especially, to write about Jesus.  It shows me more of who He is.  It reveals weaknesses in my thoughts about His character, His person and opens my eyes to greater things, more wonderful truths about my Lord and Savior.  I believe that is because, first and foremost, God is speaking to me through what I write.

But, I am in a season, a time where a little boy requires my attention so much of the time.  He is my grandson and we are helping during a time where his dad is in Mexico working as a missionary and his mom is trying to establish residency here.  The end goal is to be back together again as soon as governments and laws will allow it.  Until that happens, grandma and grandpa have to help out.

What I want to say, I fear, will be heard by women but should be heard by men.  These seasons we go through, of child care, changing diapers (even the poopy ones) are an honor.  They are chances to connect our hearts to our children and let them know how much they mean to us.  And, despite what you might think, nothing says that more than changing their messy, stinky diapers.  Cleaning them, talking to them as they lay their, tickling their toes and smiling at them.  More than gifts and words, greater than riches and discipline, our vulnerability to their great need, lets them know our hearts belong to them.

Have you fallen and feel you can’t rise again?  Have you failed knowing God can not tolerate one more of your stupid mistakes?  You do not know the heart of your Father.  His love is shown more in our weakness, His care is more evident in our failings.  His ability to redeem, to make whole again, shines brighter in our messes.

So, a blog that should’ve taken me fifteen minutes to write has taken three and a half hours, because it is my joy to love and hold a fussy young man.  Maybe my life takes up so much of my Father’s time too.  And it is His joy and honor, His glory, to care for someone like me, someone like you.

All I know is that, I look up as He cleans me and see love.  I see love.


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