Lately I've been feeling especially sensitive to stories in the news of moms losing their children in unfathomable tragedy.
First, there was the mom who came home to her Central Park West apartment to find her trusted nanny had snapped, murdering two of her three young children and then trying to kill herself.
And then there was Hurricane Sandy and the story of a mom fleeing for her life with her two young boys, when the water overcame their vehicle and they were forced to leave it, the boys were ripped from her arms by the raging surge.
Both of these stories left me feeling such empathy for these mothers - I honestly don't know which scenario would be worse - either way - I just can't imagine the pain and the loss they are experiencing at this time.
One of the things that I didn't expect as I become a mother, or at least not to the degree of it, is this fierce protective nature that instinctually takes over. Before I'd ever left the hospital with Zion, I had to watch the video...you know...the "don't shake your baby" video. It literally had both me and the hubs crying - we just couldn't fathom how anyone could hurt their child in this way.
And then as I recovered those first few weeks - I would remember a rogue thought popping into my mind of "what if something happened to my daughter" and it would literally tighten every muscle north of my shoulder blades. I was hypervigilant in those early weeks. To a certain degree I still am.
Sometimes, the fear of something happening to my daughter - just the thought of it, can send me into an emotional spiral. I think also about if someone were to hurt my daughter, what that would do to me - how I'd react, and how I'd ultimately respond.
As moms - we are nurturers: we kiss the boo-boos, take care of needs, tend volatile little emotions - and at the same time we are guardians: there to protect, to be their voice, and to fight for their survival if provoked. With the same mouth we can magically heal a bump or bruise and in the next moment cuttingly warn someone to back off if they get too close to our child.
Many of my deepest thoughts lately have been in reflection of the parent-child relationship. I've been thinking about God as the Father. I've been trying to empathize with what it must have been like for Him to send Jesus to the Cross. I mean, I'm going to be totally honest, when I look around at the world today, and then I look at my little girl, if I had to give her up for the wickedness of the world to be forgiven - placing all of the world's mistakes upon her, sending her to a brutal, torturous death on a cross---could I do that? No. Most certainly I could not.
Only God could do such a thing. I do not believe even for a minute that a loving parent could sacrifice their child AND survive the pain.
And that is just it. God loves all of his creation as his children - He's invited us all to be adopted into his family - but it cost him greatly - it cost him his one and only son. Now of course, Jesus was raised to life and sits with the Father now, but it doesn't negate that God loves each of us so much he was willing to make a trade so that he could experience the same relationship with us. So that we could know him, and experience Him.
That kind of Father is foreign to me. A Father that would stop at nothing to bring all of his children into the fold, to save all of his children from eternal damnation. The most stunning thought I have is that God could have shown up at any time now to judge the Earth, but he hasn't. His desire that all should be saved is so strong, his love and compassion and mercy so overflowing, that he allows us to continue in our wretched state.
No one has more faith in humanity, than the creator of humanity himself. And that is something worth thinking about.
