Psalm 1311 My heart is not proud, O LORD,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.2 But I have stilled and quieted my soul;
like a weaned child with its mother,
like a weaned child is my soul within me.3 O Israel, put your hope in the LORD
both now and forevermore.
When I was a new mom, the nursing “thing” was quite a hurdle for me at first. To start with, I was never a terribly maternal sort of person. Then, some difficulties during delivery caused Daniel to have some nerve damage to his mouth, making nursing that much more challenging.
In spite of these things, however, within the first three weeks, we got things “figured out” and Daniel became “The Nursing Boy.” Before too long, if anyone held him just so, he got pretty agitated. He pumped his leg, shook his head back and forth, looked for something to latch on to and hollered if it didn’t happen like he expected!
It didn’t matter if it was Grandpa, Daddy, or Mom. He knew that when he was in that position, it meant it was time to nurse. His leg would get going and hoooh wee! Would he ever pitch a fit if he had it wrong and the opportunity to nurse wasn’t forthcoming! In fact, folks learned not to hold him in “that” position. If they did, he would make them pay for not providing the goods!
I have been like an agitated nursing child lately. Instead of pumping my leg, though, I have been pumping my fist, it seems. Irritated, frustrated and really … well, NOT fun to be with! Not in the place where the Lord wants me to be. It has been coming to a head for a while now. Yesterday’s blog entry was a product of the “Waterloo” God and I had during my quiet time.
When I awakened yesterday with the realization that I was out of control, I got even MORE worked up. My admission generated agitation rather than peace at first. The wheels in my mind started turning in hyperdrive mode!
What steps would I go through to get things under control? Should I get a new bathroom scale? “This never would have happened if I had the scale to hop on and off,” I reasoned. I realized that I had resorted to one of my other coping mechanisms along the way, hoping for *it* to “save” me, too…that of drinking caffeine again. So I know better than to give in to this one, too.
Like the loving parent that He is, God brought me to Psalm 131.
My heart has been proud. My eyes have been haughty. I have been overly confident. It simply won’t work to continue this same approach now. In fact, I will not concern myself with things too wonderful for me. I “give in.” I choose to let God have HIS way. As I settle here in my weakness, I am prepared more than ever before for His strength to be manifest. He certainly has a lot to work with when I lay my weapons and “tools” down and wait on Him. So that is where I am.
The picture in verse 2 of a weaned child being quiet and still reminds me of Daniel after he had stopped nursing. When he learned to walk (somewhat later than his peers), he had too much to do to keep laying around nursing…so at 13 months of age, he was off and running.
After that time, I could hold him any way I wanted to and he didn’t associate it with nursing. His leg was still, he didn’t fuss or shake his head back and forth. Instead, he was quiet and enjoyed nestling in as I or another loving family member held him close against their chest. It really was quite the contrast.
THIS is how I am to be. Today, I choose to be a weaned child…a child who doesn’t get all hyped up about the promise of a meal or the methods I “need” to get my “act” together. I am quiet and still. Allowing my Abba Father to cuddle me close and to be ALL I need.
Even a weaned child needs his Momma. Even a weaned child is still dependent on the parent, but he can also be less agitated. He can wait. He can be still.
My hope isn’t in me and how well I can pull things together any more. It isn’t in whether or not I can keep up appearances. In fact, yesterday, I went out and bought some new pants. I want to look as good as I can right now and not allow myself to wallow in any self pity. Clothes that fit right and that don’t act as a club of condemnation (when I try to pour myself into them) are an important part of that. I am ok with this. I know that God is yet doing a new thing.