Captain, We Need More Snuggles!

Do you have a super snuggler in your life? Maybe it’s a child, your spouse, or a pet, but if you have one you already know what I mean when I say super snuggler. Holding hands isn’t enough, laying with their leg touching yours isn’t enough. If there’s a blanket or a shirt between their skin and yours, they’ll nudge and shift their body until the fabric moves.

They just can’t get close enough and every part of them needs to be touching you. My super snuggler is Jonathan. If cuddling were an Olympic sport, this kid would win the gold medal. He wakes up for snuggles when he’s lonely. If I bring him into bed with me and wait until he’s asleep to slowly slide away, we do this kind of dance where I inch away and he inches closer. Then we dance like this until I get to the edge of the bed and give in to the sweaty baby snuggles again.

This week has been wrought with sickness in our house. Pneumonia, flu, bronchiolitis, and a stomach bug have all graced our doorstep with their nasty unwelcome presence and nobody even bothered to wipe their feet. Poor Jonathan was on the receiving end of all four illnesses. Isn’t it great when siblings share? Well, when Jonathan is sick, he takes his already super-snuggly-self into a hyper-drive of clingy goodness.

It’s exhausting; even my ergo is showing signs of tiredness. In the still of the night last night, rocking and singing to a sweet, sleepy boy, I saw a peace and comfort in that face that inexplicably melted away my exhaustion. That peace and rest can only be found one place I know.

I stopped singing and started praying. Thank you Father for this tiny boy. Forgive me for my selfishness and resentment of what he needs. Forgive me for wanting to prioritize my sleep over loving him. You’ve entrusted him to us to love and teach and raise and snuggle. Oh, these snuggles. Even though he cannot say a word, You’re already using him to teach me about my relationship with You. Even in his sleep, even when he’s sick, he instinctively knows that there is comfort in closeness. Lord, we are sick and too distant from You. Grow in me a longing to be closer to You, to snuggle in and never feel like I’m near enough, to want to cling tighter and tighter to You. You are where I find my rest. Remind me when I forget that You are the bringer of all peace and comfort. Help me become more like this little child, snuggling close as I grow.

18 The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth.

19 He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them.

20 The Lord watches over all who love him,

Psalm 145:18-20a

~Wiff Love

Find a Happy Place… Find a Happy Place

Do you have a happy place? Maybe it’s a crowded shopping mall where you can be yourself in anonymity. Maybe it’s grandma’s house with its smell of old newspapers and yummy cookies. Maybe it’s a vacation destination; a chair in the sand on the beach somewhere or a log cabin in the mountains. My happy place is my bathroom.

Before you find yourself thinking “the Wifflette must still not be sleeping, Katie’s losing it…” let me explain what I mean. I love a hot shower. Alone. It’s not just the water or the quiet, though. It’s this room. In the shower this morning, I found myself marveling at this, my favorite room in the house, once again. What is it about the bathroom that makes it my favorite place? It’s not very spacious and far from luxurious. There’s toothpaste dried on the sink and water splatters on the mirror. This room is central to the house, with its own non-adjustable vent. So, it’s toasty warm in the winter and stays cool in the summer; perfect in every season when I step with bare feet out of the shower onto the peeling linoleum. The door is still cracked from three years ago when the Big Bad Wiff needed to get in so desperately that he huffed and he puffed and he booty bumped the door down to be with me. Speaking of damage caused by the eldest Wifflette, directly in front of me there’s a chip in the porcelain on the bathtub from a particularly rambunctious fire truck. If I squint hard enough, it looks like a cat on a fence shining through. To my right, there are the runny red remnants of last night’s bathtub lesson on rhyming words painted on the wall. Bat. Mat. Sat. Hat. Cat. I guess that makes two cats in this bathtub…. I smile at my joke and tip my head back to rinse my hair. As I look up, the smile on my face only broadens because I see the result of the hard work of my dedicated husband. His 6’2″ frame squeezed up into the tiny and way-to-hot attic to install this fan. He’s added so many skills to his resume of DIY tricks since we moved into this house.

I have this near-obsession with the idea that imperfection lends itself to beauty. As a Christian, I guess this is a reassurance of sorts in God’s unfailing love for broken, sinful me. Created in His image, I also love broken things; not in spite of their brokenness, but because of it. It goes beyond that, though, because the things in life that bring a smile to my face and make me happiest are the imperfect things. Without all that beautiful brokenness, this bathroom would just be four pale blue walls and some necessities. With it, I have a daily reminder of the love and life in this house. I came here, to my happy place, for a retreat from my crazy life. But I know I’ll never run far. Whether I remembered to lock the door or not, they’re here with me. I guess that’s what it is… Wherever there is love and family, that’s my happy place.

~Wiff Love

 

This Baaashful Sheep has a Graceful Shepherd

I don’t know if I should be shaking with anger or wringing my hands in disappointment. Or maybe I just want to hang my head and close my eyes and cry. Hiding isn’t productive. Maybe I can channel the anger.

Matthew 25:40 is weighing heavily on my heart today and bringing me to my knees to convict me as a citizen of the society I call home.

Why is it that our desperate need for a (false) sense of security is trumping our sense of responsibility to people in need? People. Humans. Children created in the image of God. I’ve heard the excuses, but that’s all that they are. They are attempts to justify our hesitance, anxiety, resistance, or all-out refusal to help. It’s fear. How can we stop being afraid? Love. LOVE! Fear cannot exist in a place of love. Want to drive out that fear? Forget the wall. Forget the ID cards. Forget sewing a crescent moon on everyone’s lapel or tattooing numbers on forearms. These are not cattle to be herded or demons to be feared. They are people in need of shelter, service, and a great deal of love.

I can hear it now. You’re thinking “Oh, but Katie, you have children. What kind of mother are you for putting them in danger?” My answer is simple. A Christian mother. If I put aside the thought that there are children and families among the refugees and just address the issue of the two children God entrusted to my care, the answer is still simple. I am far FAR more concerned with their salvation and their faith than I am with their safety while here on Earth. Do I want them raised in a home where I only practice my religion for an hour on Sunday? No. Do I want them to see Christianity as a fable we hear about from a book but that doesn’t change anything about us? No. I want them to grow up knowing a living, breathing faithful and faith-filled person who serves her world out of love, ignoring the temptation to cower in fear. As a mother, I am Called to raise my children according to scripture. We teach my four-year-old to share his toys, but I won’t share my extra food when someone needs it? We teach my 15-month-old that kisses make unseen boo-boos all better, but we can’t reach out a brotherly kiss to those who are really hurting? What kind of hypocrite would I be?

We don’t have much, but we have more than most. What I have is not really mine, anyway. It is the Lord’s to do his work. I’ll house a refugee or as many as needed. What better way to open a dialogue than by opening my home and my heart? Vulnerability is not weakness. Grace fills me with the love of God and that love drives out fear from every cavity of my chest. I have hands that work, eyes that see, a heart that loves, and have been blessed with much. Use me, Dear Jesus, to further your Kingdom.

~Wiff Love