Epiphany in a Parking Garage

“Should we go or not?”

That’s how our Sunday morning started.

We were already going to be an hour and a half late to the three hour long church service, we were going to mess with our son’s nap time, and yet we decided to go.

We piled into a cab and made the trek downtown to find ourselves in a ballroom of a hotel. Our little guy fell asleep on the way but awoke to the way-too-loud PA system. I decided to leave and try to find a quiet place for him to resume napping. The first try was a bust- a hallway by the bathrooms where clicky shoes, flushing toilets, and chatty voices made sleeping an impossibility. I headed back out the hallway that led into the meeting room, which was full of kids and laughter and a clown making balloon toys.

I kept moving away from people to find myself in the hotel’s parking garage. There was a smoker’s area in the corner with plastic chairs attached to each other,

the kind you see in bus stations or old airports. No smokers though, just empty chairs.

I sat down, holding my finally-sleeping son, and let him continue to rest in peace.
Beads of perspiration began to form on his head, and I could feel myself getting damp with sweat. I sat there indignantly, thinking, “So THIS is where new moms get to sit with their infants during church. This is just great.” I looked around at the parking garage- the oil-stained floor, the accumulation of dirt everywhere. A parking garage.

A place most people don’t give much thought to. It’s pretty much just the place you walk through to get to somewhere else. Unimportant, dirty, inconsequential.

And then it hit me.

Another mother held her baby in a similar place about 2000 years ago.

Her son was born in an unimportant, dirty, inconsequential place because no one else offered them a place to stay. But instead of being smug and self-important, she treasured up the details of her son’s birth and pondered them in her heart.

God, please help me to be more like Mary. I pray my eyes would be open to the treasures and my heart would ponder them in wonder. Thank you that I have something to celebrate at Christmas. Thank you for hope and for entering into our mess. Thank you for the love you've given to me and a new son I get to hold in my arms.

Thanks for this year's Christmas present: an epiphany with my son in a parking garage.

The Infant Honors Program

I can't believe it's happening already.


"Ooh wow- your son is already sleeping for 8 hours straight? That's great!" Something rises in me. A quiet sense of pride that my child has some extra special talent or ability. Sleeping? Really? A talent? I remember hearing conversations like this before I had a kid. I would have an inner dialogue afterwards that went something like, "Wow- those parents must be doing things right. Or that kid must just be extra fantastic. She's probably headed for the Ivy Leagues." When I type it, I realize how ridiculous it sounds, but in the subtlety of conversation or my own thoughts, it's not so clear. My success as a parent and the virtue of my son seems to be determined by how and when he attains developmental milestones.


"I'll pray that it will become easier for you day by day to take care of him." This comment came after my son Asher was unconsolably crying, several times, during a visit with a friend. After hearing this, something in me wanted to say, "But wait- he's a good baby. He was tired and off today, this isn't normal for him. He's not one of those colicky babies." Because if I had a colicky baby, that would feel like I'm an incompetent parent, or Asher is going to grow up to be a difficult child and then a high-maintenance adult.


Why do I do this? Connect my worth to such milestones? I suspect it's because there's something in me that looks to my son to tell me how I'm doing as a mom.


Help me, God, to be the best mom I can be, but to not let my worth ride on how my kid is sleeping or when he starts to crawl or walk.

Mothering. My word. It's harder than anything I've done so far. Harder than moving to and living in Siberia, harder than a marathon, than earning a master's degree, trying to speak Thai, or teaching first graders or middle schoolers. It's also better than anything I've done so far. Nothing has been richer, more beautiful, more demanding, stretching, humbling, or heart-melting. I remember a profound realization I had in the hospital after Asher was born. A huge hidden reservoir of love existed in my heart that I didn't even know I had. I had no idea I had the capacity for this kind of love; I truly didn't know it was there. I've got amazing family and friends, so I didn't have a kid to fill some vacuum of love in my heart. I wasn't looking for love; it was just a delightful surprise. A big one. One that I couldn't have predicted but am so thankful for. As I held him and fed him, I realized I could look at him for minutes that turned into hours. I would tear up just looking at him, marveling at this person- a PERSON- who grew inside of me. This person who I know nothing about personality-wise, interest-wise. This person who only makes my life more complicated and exhausting. And I can't believe how much I love him. What a miracle. I lean into that love when he's crying and I can't get him to stop and and it hurts my ears. I lean into it when I'm spraying poop off of his cloth diapers. Or when my body is tired and sore from feeding him. I'm in awe of mothering and the billions of women who've done it before me or are doing it now, because it's the closest thing I've found yet to humble, selfless love. Well, except for a certain someone who left heaven to come live among us and show us what true selfless love is. I'm bedazzled all the more when I think of God's love, to think of how he loves me even when I'm thankless or just make things more complicated. He loves me no matter what I do for him. As a matter of fact, I think he loves just looking at me, just watching me...just like I enjoy looking at my son. I'll bet He enjoys watching me learn lessons from my little man. About an hour ago, I was holding him, bouncing up and down, rocking him back and forth, watching his eyes get heavier by the minute. He'd start to relax, and then bam- he'd tense up again, arching his back, flexing his legs and arms. His pacifier would fall out of his mouth as I'd whisper, "You're gonna be alright. Everything's ok." He would melt back into me, curving around my middle, ferociously sucking on the pacifier once again, moving towards sleep. I saw myself in my son. How often do I forget the rest available to me in my Creator's embrace? I start to worry about people's opinions of me, finances, the future, health, loved ones. Then I stop and remember who loves me and how He's got me, and I melt back into rest. Man. Who knew my 2 month-old could teach me so much.

It's been a long time...like 5 years or something...since I last posted anything. I guess I could list a gajillion reasons about why that is. Busyness, more important things, getting a little disgusted with self-importance and thinking that what I have to say is worth putting on the internet for everyone to read. I probably felt a little gun shy for offending an Indian gentleman who didn't like my post about India. Maybe the biggest reason for my silence was that a lot of the meaningful parts of my life were being impacted by others, and sharing their stories felt, well, maybe a little violating or exploitive. Like using those pictures of kids who look pitiful and hungry to get people to give money. Only instead of me trying to raise money, I was sometimes sharing those stories to feel like my life was interesting or important. I still don't know what I think about all that, but I know that writing and sharing is important. So here goes. Since I last posted, lots has gone down. Cliff notes version: -3 more years teaching in Bangkok, 3 of the richest I've known. Walking alongside of fellow Jesus-lovers, learning what it means to be Jesus to those around us and to walk in humility as we grow. I saw God at work in the lives of my students and their families, and He grew me up in the process. -I returned to the United States in June 2011 and moved to the great state of Idaho where I completed a master's degree and obtained a license in professional counseling.

-Oh yeah...I got re-acquainted with and fell in love with an old college friend, Tyler Smith. We got married in February 2012 and are expecting the birth of our first little one any day now.

How times have changed! So there it is, my first "getting back in the game" post. More to come.