Strength from the milk (literally) of human kindness
About an hour ago I realized that it was 4:00 p.m. and I still hadn't eaten today. That's a problem because A)I'm recovering from major surgery B) Lillian threw us a curve ball last night and stayed up until 5 a.m. (I know how many of you can relate to that) and C)I'm trying to figure out how to feed this child and I know that starving, stressed out mama=starving stressed out baby.
Welcome to the madness, right?
In the midst of realizing I was starving, I also remembered that my dear friend, Kristin, had brought over some soup and corn bread last night. I ran and got some, heated it up, and returned to bed. My blessed mother-in-law promised to keep the baby entertained so Trent and I could get some rest. He was drifting in and out of sleep when he realized I was crying over the cornbread.
I know, it's sort of funny, crying over cornbread, and I know that the humor lies in how totally emotional volatile you become post-pregnancy. But really, I wasn't crying because of hormones. Well, maybe I was just a leetle bit, but it was bigger than that.
In a moment, that cornbread somehow took on a symbolic significance. I started thinking of the multiple kindnesses I've received from others in the past week. Some have come from people like nurses and doctors who didn't even know me but took went the extra mile anyway in my care and the baby's. Some kindnesses have come from friends who have taken the time to call or email or share in the joy of this moment.
And some acts of kindness have been left me speechless at the grace at which they are rendered. Kristin didn't just bring dinner last night; when she saw me in my moment of crisis, she stayed in the baby nursery with me until late at night, providing tips and insight. At the most difficult moment, she found a washcloth in our linen closet, rinsed it in cool water, and gently washed my face as I fed Lillian. When my sister Sara was here she acted similarly during a moment of total vulnerability when I couldn't take care of myself--she did. The love she manifested in that moment made both of us cry.
People who act like that are, in a moment, stepping in for the Savior, acting as He would and loving as He does.
And so, I cried as I ate that wonderful cornbread, cried tears of total gratitude for the acts of grace in the last week that have taught me what empathy, love, and compassion are. I don't think I've ever served anyone in the ways that I have been so tenderly and lovingly served. But I think that empathy like I have been shown is earned; those who show it do so because they have been down this path before.
I promise, from here on out, I will do the same. But I just had to say how utterly humbly thankful I am.
Gotta go. Kristin just showed up with more food.
Welcome to the madness, right?
In the midst of realizing I was starving, I also remembered that my dear friend, Kristin, had brought over some soup and corn bread last night. I ran and got some, heated it up, and returned to bed. My blessed mother-in-law promised to keep the baby entertained so Trent and I could get some rest. He was drifting in and out of sleep when he realized I was crying over the cornbread.
I know, it's sort of funny, crying over cornbread, and I know that the humor lies in how totally emotional volatile you become post-pregnancy. But really, I wasn't crying because of hormones. Well, maybe I was just a leetle bit, but it was bigger than that.
In a moment, that cornbread somehow took on a symbolic significance. I started thinking of the multiple kindnesses I've received from others in the past week. Some have come from people like nurses and doctors who didn't even know me but took went the extra mile anyway in my care and the baby's. Some kindnesses have come from friends who have taken the time to call or email or share in the joy of this moment.
And some acts of kindness have been left me speechless at the grace at which they are rendered. Kristin didn't just bring dinner last night; when she saw me in my moment of crisis, she stayed in the baby nursery with me until late at night, providing tips and insight. At the most difficult moment, she found a washcloth in our linen closet, rinsed it in cool water, and gently washed my face as I fed Lillian. When my sister Sara was here she acted similarly during a moment of total vulnerability when I couldn't take care of myself--she did. The love she manifested in that moment made both of us cry.
People who act like that are, in a moment, stepping in for the Savior, acting as He would and loving as He does.
And so, I cried as I ate that wonderful cornbread, cried tears of total gratitude for the acts of grace in the last week that have taught me what empathy, love, and compassion are. I don't think I've ever served anyone in the ways that I have been so tenderly and lovingly served. But I think that empathy like I have been shown is earned; those who show it do so because they have been down this path before.
I promise, from here on out, I will do the same. But I just had to say how utterly humbly thankful I am.
Gotta go. Kristin just showed up with more food.
Comments
xoxo
Also this: Liiiiiiillllly! :)