should / be

my sister and i were talking about this the other day.

how should is a hard place.

not a grace-place.

there is no tenderness in should, no expansive arms of joy, no welcome.  should is a cold shoulder, a great gap of expectations and a yardstick to measure the falling short.

all too often i find myself living in that house.  and putting others in it too.
and the walls don't meet, and the rooms aren't comfortable, and the light glares magazine-glossy on all of our imperfections.  it is filled with the stench of disappointment and shame.

this is not the house God built.
this is not the house God built.

his name is not "you should" (or she should or we should or i should) but "I AM".

I AM is filled with grace.  it holds no expectations, no measuring-sticks that turn quickly into rods for beating the failed backs.  the rooms are large, and all are welcome.  come, they beckon.  be.

in my childhood church, there was a man who often prayed from psalm 31.  "thou hast set my feet in a large room," he would praise.  the heart-grabbing graciousness of that phrase gripped my heart.  a large room.  room for all.  room to grow.  expand.  room to be.  not a small room.  not a room of squirming, mincing steps, but a large room for whirling, dancing, joy in the sheer gladness of living.  a room with big spaces for big faith and big hopes.

not a critical room.  not a room with measuring sticks on walls and windows.  no.

a large room.  plenty of space to rest.  to just be.

God's name is I AM.  in him, there is enough.  there is more than enough.  all fullness.

this morning, three hours after her last nursing, vava woke me again.  i stumbled across the room, confused to find her in her crib - hadn't i just picked her up?  wasn't she still in my arms?  a glance at the clock and the room spun, exhaustion and nausea swimming up my veins.  again?  it was time to feed her again?

i snuggled her, crying, into patrick's arms while i set up my pillows.
and as i nursed, wakefulness flooded into me.  wakefulness for this moment.  eyes that had hung bleary over her opened, devouring words.  arms that had trembled, sleepy, grew strong.  i read psalm 31 and traveled from the small, cramped room of should to is, place of grace and love.

i don't feed my dear lovely girl because i should - but because i am.  i am her mama.  my heart flows with love for her, my bones ache with love for her.

like His grace.  for us.  through us.  to us.  from us.

God sets our feet in a large room.