We live in a age where puberty starts sooner and adulthood begins later.
It’s almost as if “someone” wants to squelch purity and postpone maturity.
If you’re between 11-35 and find yourself constantly bored, amused and confused - begin to seek God with everything you’ve got.
If you don’t - you’ll successfully waste 20+ years of your life - and will live to regret it for the rest of your life.
“
What God says, on the other hand, is “The life you save is the life you lose.”
In other words, the life you clutch, hoard, guard, and paly safe with is in the end a life worth little to anybody, including yourself, and only a life given away for love’s sake is a life worth living.
To bring his point home, God shows us a man who gave his life away to the extent of dying a national disgrace without a penny in the bank or a friend to his name.
In terms of anybody who think he can follow him without making something like the same kind of a fool of himself is laboring under not a cross but a delusion.
”- by Meg Jay
it all makes sense.
You can connect the dots.
You understand why certain things happened.
And you would have it no other way.
Only in retrospect.
But does it have to be this way?
Couldn’t you simply appreciate this moment though you didn’t understand it?
I used to hurry through life.
Ever desiring to fast-forward and skip to the good parts.
I wanted to be 16, then 18, then 21.
Always on the run for the next meal, next person, next break, next vacation, next semester, next year, next opportunity, next job.
In desperation for next … I lost the present.
Always groping but never finding.
But this semester I found it, by God’s grace.
For what seems to be the first time in a long time, I was content, where I was, who I was with, and with my present and current circumstances.
I was fully in the present - relishing and treasuring everything and everyone in my life.
I was going sleepless, with tons of assignments, projects, events, work while trying to graduate with a newborn baby.
In times before, I would’ve wished myself out of the present condition - and would’ve hurried through everything that was going on.
But this time it was different. I wanted to fully taste, experience and see where I was, who I was with and what I was going through.
And now that the semester’s over, with graduation around the corner with a 40-day-old baby Enoch - I praise God for the contentment in my heart and the serenity in my soul.
And no longer do I need a “retrospect” to understand what happened - I fully gained understanding by choosing to live in the present.
Everything is in place.
The bathtub inside the bathtub - a pool of water that has been warmed up to just the right temperature along with a basin on the bathroom sink that has been strategically placed to wash Enoch’s hair.
I ease my way to Enoch’s crib, take him out slowly and gently - not to startle him - and begin explaining in both Korean and English the process in which he must undergo for the next 5 minutes.
He keeps on bobbing his head, blinks his eyes, tosses his overweight head from one side to another while making unexplainable and indescribable noises with his body and mouth.
He seems ready. Or so I pray.
I pray with Enoch before we enter into this rather holy ritual of cleansing.
Then we walk together to the sink and begin the washing & bathing process.
He’s strangely silent and observant. His intense gaze meets my eyes as my hands cup his rather plump sized, double chinned, oval-shaped head and shampoo in rhythmic movement in attempt to remove the strange odor his hair.
I’m careful and try to be swift and professional - but my amateur washing skills soon rise to the surface - as Enoch begins to fidget, jiggle and twiddle his entire body and oops … some water gets into his eyes, perhaps and ears … and definitely in his mouth.
He then bursts out crying and begins to shiver - frightened, scared, discomforted - and cries for his mother.
I somehow, finish rinsing his hair and scrub down his face - calm and steady - not ready to hand over Enoch to Iris - not just yet … but Enoch doesn’t stop his lament for the amateur washing skills of his earthly father . . and is quite desperate to return to the ever warm, comforting embrace and bosom of his mother.
As soon as he is handed over to his mother’s bosom, sobs discontinue … his breathing returns to normal … and magically he actually falls asleep, in matter of seconds.
Magical indeed.
Somehow and in some way - I rewind and travel back in time - to about 32 years ago - and see myself cuddled and comforted in the loving embrace and bosom of my mother.
Tears well-up in the deep recesses of my soul as I think of many times where I have failed to express gratitude for my mother who has always opened up her arms and unconditionally loved me and comforted me and fed me.
We’ve all been there. In the bosom of our mothers … receiving something that we didn’t deserve. We did nothing to deserve it. But it was rather, graciously and sacrificially given.
In the midst of tremendous fatigue and sleeplessness - our mothers faithfully and consistently got up, took us up on their arms, sang to us, fed us, cooed us, held us and just simply loved us.
Thank God for mothers!
