Full Heart, Full hands

We have 2 hands. No more, no less. That is what we have, and we work with it. My husband and I got to see a movie recently revolving around a mother and the loos of her son. She was sharing that from the moment her son was born, her hands were full. “One hand for him, and one hand for what he needs.”

And isn’t that the truth. When my first child was born, I was shocked at the amount of things I simply could not accomplish because my hands were always full. How can a baby that sleeps most of the time keep my hands so busy? By the second child I had learned to do many tasks single handed, but that didn’t mean I had a free hand. It means that both were even more full than before.

Before my children were born, I worried about my emotional capacity to love them the way they deserved. When I became pregnant with my second child, I wondered how in the world my heart could find more love to give. I worried that my son would feel less loved now that I was shared with another.

As many mothers assured me, it is truly beautiful how your heart expands. My ability to love is not divided, but exponentially multiplied. Some how you love both children even more than you did with just one. Each child after that experiences the same conundrum.

What I did not give much l thought to was the fact that while my ability to love grew with each passing child, the number of arms available did not. The amount of hours in a day did not. My need for sleep and food and rest did not.

So while my love expanded in width and depth, I remained finite in my ability to provide care. There is only one of me to go around. I can multitask with some efficiency, but little ones that you love do not want your divided attention.

The amount of times I have had to set down one child to pick up another still hurts my heart a bit. At times, one need has to take precedence over another. When one child is disappointed that they can’t have all of your attention, a little bit of your heartbreaks.

They have equal amounts of my heart but not equal amounts of my attention.

The Christian life is a delicate balance in so many ways. We are made in God’s image, bear His likeness, and in Christ we are being made more like Him daily in sanctification.

So life becomes a study in our Imago Dei, the ways we are like Christ. And in contrast, the ways we are so unlike Christ.

Christ’s ability to love His creation is infinite. He made us willingly without any need of us. He chooses to love us. The depths of that are truly unfathomable for us.

He is not limited in His ability to care.  He is omniscient and omnipresent. His attention is never divided. He never leaves a need unattended too. His never flustered or rushed. He is never impatient.

He not only attends to every need, but He delights in our presence. His affections is lavished on us. Even His discipline is without fault.

So when our hands are full we can be certain that he is holding us. That when things fall thru the cracks, He can hold them up. When we fall apart, he will hold us together. And He will meet every need. Through us or without us. And He will meet our needs too.

He is the perfect parent, both to our kids and to us.

Our limits allow us to experience His abundance. Our weakness is a place to experience His strength.

In the moments when I am overwhelmed with all that I lack, and worried about all the implications of my limitedness, I can look into the eyes of my children (or husband or friends) and know that as much as I love them, God loves them more. This truth frees me from the belief that I have to be perfectly what everyone needs. And can point them to the one who can.