(Do you remember the days long, long ago when you could just sit down whenever you wanted to? Like it was a free country? No asking permission. No brushing off crushed cheerios from the cushion. No untangling two or more children from between your legs so you wouldn't crush their little skulls when you did it. Just sitting. Wow that was nice.)
But anyway there you are. Sitting and enjoying and lifting the fork. And please. You know what I'm about to say. Cut and copy your kid's favorite form of drama and paste it right HERE. Because somewhere between the sitting and the chewing there is the SITUATION. We call it fork radar at our house. Everyone's happy as can be til mom sits and picks up her fork. They're good at it too! That built-in sonar system is not messin' around. They can be upstairs in the play room or across the street at the neighbor's house. But wherever they are, they know when you pick up that fork. So here's the tricky part. Do you A) shove in a couple bites before you check it out? B) Sit and finish quickly with an ear out for more trouble? Or C) drop the fork and run because somebody's body part is stuck in the potty tunnel and it won't come out. Well any momma worth her salt knows the level of the crisis is based on the scream. And she, like the undercover Wonder Woman that she is, can mentally triage the situation and get it right 9 times out of 10. My husband loves my secret powers. We'll be sittin' there talking and I, like a fool, pick up a fork. And hear the scream. He looks at me with a question in his eye and I say, "Nope we're good" or "Hang on a sec. Better keep listening" or "Run!" and it's like a party trick just for the two of us because he can't for the life of him figure out how I do that and it's all kinds of entertaining to him. Til he has to pull a body part out of the potty tunnel which is always kind of a buzz kill.
And the fact is, I can't really explain it to him either. It's a mom thing for sure. When you just know stuff about your kid and you're usually right. I remember one time when Wesley was a little bug and we were sitting in church. And about 15 minutes before the sermon was over, I said to the husband, "I gotta go check on the baby." And he said with all the maddening logic of a man, "Babe they'll put his number up if there's a problem." And I said back, "No, I just feel like he needs me now." And we had a little whisper-yell argument in the pew til he agreed to step out with me and go check. And doggone it, if we didn't round the corner to the nursery wing and see from a distance that a worker had taken Wesley out of the baby room and was walking him up and down the hall to try to calm him down while he was screamin' his little lungs out. And I didn't say the words 'I told you so' out loud but I vibed them as hard as I could at the husband who only shook his head and smiled. (Partly because we were in church and you never know when a deacon's gonna round a corner and catch you fighting with your wife and you have to smile and pretend that she's the cutest lil thing ever and not getting on your nerves at all but mostly because he's way nicer than me and doesn't have a mean bone in his body.) But I know if you're a mom, you feel me. You have your own stories about knowing stuff about your kids and you have no idea HOW you know it. You just do. And I love that. I love that God wired us to our babies. We can look at their faces and know if someone hurt their feelings at school, if they have a headache, if they need to drink more water, if they're embarrassed to tell us something, if they're missing daddy, if they're scared about their dentist appointment next week, or if they're about to go karate crazy on their brother the next time he interrupts them. And I look at my own Father. And he looks down at me. His daughter. True, I was adopted but I'm in His family just the same as if I was born to Him. And He knows me that way. That special, intimate, unexplainable way. I love the verses where He reminds me of it.
Ruth, listen to me. "The very hairs of your head are numbered. Don't be afraid." Luke 12:7
Ruth look at me. "Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you." Jeremiah 1:5
Ruth go ahead and cry. I see every tear. "(Lord) You have collected all my tears in a bottle." Ps 56:8
Ruth I'm here. "Do not be terrified...for the Lord your God goes with you..." Deut.31:6
Ruth I'm not leaving. Ever. "He will neither fail you nor abandon you..." Deut 31:6
So maybe you're past the fork radar stage and on to boyfriend battles and curfew crises. (Heaven help me. Just typing that makes me need a Xanax.) Or maybe you're still at that place where the baby can't roll over yet and praise Jesus, he's trapped in that bassinet til you're finished with your salad. But wherever you are, remember how loved you are. How cherished and precious you are. You're His daughter and He knows you the same way you know those little monkeys who've destroyed the guest room in the amount of time its taken you to read this paragraph. Know them and love them like only a momma can. But take time to feel His love too!
