Content without a Cape
Lessons from Pipecleaner Goggles
“Mom, I want to be like him!” My son eagerly points to the Green Lantern. We sit in the children’s library, squatting at a little table surrounded by Curious George & Thomas the Train. Except my 13-year-old, I mean 3-year-old son doesn’t like those anymore. He wants the “scary books” or more mature titles. No more Daniel Tiger or Sesame Street.
Now he races around the house with pipe cleaner goggles proud of his new superhero outfit. When he races to the table he is the good guy ready to go.
Although he looks silly with his goggles, I resonate with his desire. I look at my life and also want to make a difference in the world.
Especially around this time of year, when school-year commitments wrap up, summer approaches, and fall decisions loom. I second guess my decisions and input into society. Am I doing enough? Will my children be productive members of society if they don’t attend XYZ? It used to be decisions about little choices like gymnastics or soccer; now we peer into the big world of education. Should we do classical, Montessori, Charlotte Mason, or all the above?
And with all these choices, there’s this looming sense that we’ll make a wrong decision.
The rational side of my brain knows we can course correct, but my emotions consider all the unwanted possibilities — missing out on lifelong friendships, subpar teachers, or worse.
My mind circles back to the present—the library, the kids’ section, the book, superheroes. I too want to be super and do all the things that will help others. Maybe I need a magic lasso like Wonder Woman or super speed like the Flash.
To have plenty of energy to get tasks completed. To be able to complete a 30min workout without huffing and puffing. To stay connected with friends and family and have enough energy for my spouse at the end of the night.
As I think about superheroes, I’m reminded of the greatest superhero and what our job is and is not.
Psalms 131 helps me put these decisions into perspective:
1 My heart is not proud, Lord,
my eyes are not haughty;
I do not concern myself with great matters
or things too wonderful for me.
2 But I have calmed and quieted myself,
I am like a weaned child with its mother;
like a weaned child I am content.
3 Israel, put your hope in the Lord
both now and forevermore.
Sometimes my heart wants to be like a superhero trying to solve the challenges around me, but forgets the people in front of me and concerns itself with matters too great and wonderful for me.
Part of me is upset at that verse, upset there are boundaries, and things that are too great, that there’s a difference between selfish and unselfish ambition.
What should we do? Instead, the psalmist calms and quiets himself. A weaned child is content. Is there something that we need to wean ourselves from?
Finally, he closes by hoping in the Lord now and forevermore. How can we find peace with evil and problems swirling around our homes and hearts? Hope in the Lord, the greatest superhero to ever be. Because of him, our lives can make a super difference to others. Whether it’s the surprise actions in the day or the mundane, our lives matter, and there’s hope for tomorrow.
Because of Jesus I don’t have to have super strength. I can serve him and others with the strength he gives day by day. Whether I’m sitting in a library or at home. I can be present with my son, trusting that God handles great and small matters of the future. We don’t have to save the world, we can be faithful with the life given in front of us.
Francis Chan book: Beloved
Coffee & Crumb book: collection of stories
Love this coffee! (Anyone have a good cold brew recipe? Maybe I’ll try that in the summer) (:
This podcast with Emily Jensen & Laura Wifler.
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series “Surprise.”
We can be faithful. Yes and amen.