Ya know when you’ve had a rough week/day/hour and you are just *waiting* for something to set you off emotionally? You’re sitting there, staring into the void that is a painted wall and just waiting for something to make you cry or scream.
What sets you off doesn’t have to be a big deal. It could be as simple as getting innocently hit by your 10 month old for the fifth time in the lip.
Could be that you just had your armpits waxed for the first time yesterday and you are walking around looking like the little brother in the snow scene from A Christmas Story.
What sets you off could be as simple as stubbing your toe on the edge of the baby gate while trying to climb over it.
No matter what happens, no matter how minute of an event, you’re bound to break eventually.
My breaking point, excluding all three examples above, was while watching a video that popped up in my facebook feed. It wasn’t lighthearted, rather, it was concerning a pastor and baby boxes.
A baby box is a safe box attached usually to a church, orphanage, home, or other building that is heated and suitable for abandoned babies. A person can leave a child in a baby box anonymously and the child will immediately receive attention from staff attending the box.
I started watching this video not expecting to be as touched as I was.
I started bawling. Uncontrollably. Twenty seconds into it, I was completely and utterly devastated.
My heart broke for the need for such a ministry, but I was soon lifted up by the pastor’s courage, generosity, and vision. My heart was touched. I could go into details of the debate surrounding such Baby Boxes, but I’ll save that for another date.
I found myself crying at random throughout the rest of the morning.
As soon as I heard Daphne rustling about in her crib, I went to her. I scooped her up and told her how much I love her. I made goofy faces at her and she started to giggle. My heart overflows with love.
I wasn’t always this way. I look back on who I was before I had my baby and I consider myself to be selfish. I was over opinionated which was ironic considering that I was under experienced in so many areas of my life.
I tried to watch “Call the Midwife,” a drama centered around midwifery and childbirth in the mid 1900s. I could barely stomach my way through each episode and was left with a devastated heart after each one. The emotional trauma it caused me was not worth continuing watching the show. The life of mother and child continually hanging in the balance was too much for me to bear. I doubt that I would have been as affected in my younger days as I am now.
At the sight of a child or a baby, my heart swells with joy. I see hope. I see the future. I see purity in a child’s eyes. Yea, sometimes it’s hard to see that when the baby is screaming like a pterodactyl or throwing a fit over (Fill in the blank). I guess I look through rose colored glasses more often than not. Why bring negativity to a situation that is a miracle?
I had no idea I would spend my morning in tears over that video. I didn’t think that my time would be spent praying for the mothers and abandoned children who slip through the cracks, go unnoticed, or fall deeper into despair. I figured today would be just another day of reading with Daphne, cleaning squash off of her face & from between her fingers, and cleaning house.
Things never work out how you think they will. I never imagined that I’d enjoy stubbing my toe on baby gear or getting abused by an innocent head bang from my baby. I enjoy it because of love. That’s about all I can attribute it to.