Small Ambitions

Last updated on: April 11, 2011 at 12:01 am by michaboyett

Small Ambitions 2011-04-11T00:01:28-07:00 michaboyett

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

Sunday, in the midst of rocking and bouncing my little babes in the back of the balcony throughout our church service, my brain completely missed the sermon. (I cannot recall anything I can’t take notes on.) In these early days of baby-loving, I usually don’t have a lot of spiritual learning taking place, at least intellectually. But yesterday, in the midst of trying to plug T-Rexy’s cries with a pacificer, I somehow heard and connected to something my pastor said (and has probably said a million times before). Perhaps he was praying or about to pray. Maybe it was just before a time of reflection. But he said something to the effect of: “God wants to heal us of our small ambitions.”

Our small ambitions. You know those moments when God connects something by thread to your soul, makes a new stitch in there so it won’t leave? I felt that way with those words. I’m feeling needy, weak, and anxious about my abilities to raise two children. I feel like I’m failing daily with August in a way I never felt one month ago, before Brooks was born. Suddenly, my weaknesses as a mother are large and apparent. My 2-year-old is feeling unsettled in our family, longing for life the way it used to be, screaming and tantruming over things he used to do obediently when we asked them of him: pee in the potty, get in the bathtub, put your toys away.

Saturday night Chris and I were both overcome with our sense of failing August, our selfish reactions, our lack of patience, and our lack of wisdom. (We both lean toward discipline when maybe our response should be nurture.) Yes, having a newborn in the house changes everything for all of us. When family changes we see ourselves in a new way. My weaknesses are glaring.

When Fred mentioned our small ambitions, I was immediately taken to my mantra of the past three weeks: Survive. Just make it through this day. Just get your kids fed and clothed and snuggled. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with survival when your life is adjusting to something as significant as a new child. But, it’s not enough. It’s too small. Christ longs to give my family and me more than survival. Christ longs for my boys to be more than nice kids. If I grasp on to his vision for August and Brooks, I will find his longing for their depth, their authenticity, their compassion, their sense of justice and mercy. The building up of those qualities in them is much bigger and deeper than the moment to moment harriedness of daily survival.

The first time I was pregnant, I felt a profound connection with Communion each Sunday. It was as if I had a secret purpose when I was given the bread and the wine, that as I consumed them I was sending Christ to my son. Then, after August was born, I would pray for him before I took Communion, asking Christ to pass himself along to August in some beautiful way through my milk. I think about that now with Brooks. I pray the same things.

Yesterday, my husband was holding him as we tilted back our little plastic Presbyterian cups of wine. However Chris was holding the baby, he somehow couldn’t get the whole sip of wine swallowed. There remained a fourth of the cup left. He turned to me. “Will you finish this?” he asked. And I took it.

Communion is a worship experience. It’s personal but it’s communal. We take the wine and bread into our individual selves, but we do it together.

It occurred to me that I’ve shared the wine and the bread with both of my boys in beautiful, precious ways, but I’ve never “shared” it with Chris. He and I had whispered in the dark Saturday night about parenthood, our fears, each other’s tendencies and weaknesses. We’d prayed together for our boys. And now I was helping him finish the wine he couldn’t consume because our son needed him. Whatever it means to recognize God’s bigger ambitions for our lives as a family, I can’t help but think it starts with this: we feed each other Jesus. We consume what the other (or others) can’t then consume.

And we believe the secret: that daily, in the midst of the mundane, God’s purpose and ambition for our family is deeper and thicker than we can yet grasp.

Previous Post

April 7, 2011

August lists some things

Next Post

April 14, 2011 A Psalm for Thankful Thursday

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category A Deeper Church Beautiful Beautiful and Broken Books Broken Deeper Story Family and the Christian Year Family Life Found Friends Guest Post Invitation Motherhood My Chalkboard One Good Phrase Pinterest Place and Stability Poetry Practicing Benedict Thankful Tuesday The Daily The Mama Monk the Praying Life The Pursuit of Enough This Sacred Everyday Uncategorized Vlog Women and the Church World Vision

Select a Month March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 August 2013 July 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012 April 2012 March 2012 February 2012 January 2012 December 2011 November 2011 October 2011 September 2011 August 2011 July 2011 June 2011 May 2011 April 2011 March 2011 February 2011 January 2011 December 2010 November 2010 October 2010 September 2010 August 2010 July 2010 June 2010 May 2010 April 2010 March 2010 February 2010

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

I am confidence in what is hoped for and assurance about what is not seen. Without me, it's impossible to please God. What am I?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Trust Faith Hope Belief