“When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought joy to my soul.” Psalm 94:19 (NIV)
Noah is in his light-blue, country French room crying, wailing really, as I sit right outside his wooden door on the floor crying silently with him. This is the third attempt at a nap today for my colicky son, who has fallen asleep once again while eating, but awoke in his bed immediately after being laid down.
I cried out to God, “Lord, I don’t know what I’m doing. Please show me how to be Noah’s mama.” As thick, hot tears coursed down my cheeks, I thought of the time we spent readying our home for this tiny child. Seven years of infertility–tears now are flowing in a mix of thankfulness and inadequacy, as I considered our answered prayer beyond the door, now angrily crying.
Releasing my breath in a rush, I walked back into Noah’s room. His face is now streaked with tears–the inverted “v” on his forehead, as red as a tomato. Picking Noah up, I whispered, “Hush now, little one. Is it your tummy again? You need the rest and so does your Mommy. But I’m here now, Noah. Let’s rock.”
Once again in so many days, I rocked my son, sang, prayed and bathed his thick, black-haired head with my tears. Soon he would settle and sleep. Slowly his eyes would fall heavy and his little, snuffle-snores would resound, as his sweaty brow would release the tension that began our time together.
Once again, I see my tension also has been released in these moments spent with tiny boy, who would one day call me, “Mama.” Yes, Lord, with Your help, I will give it a good name. Please show me how to be a good mother, Jesus.