Tip of My Iceberg

She’s definitely a keeper.

Brooklyn and her mom and dad finally got home late Monday night from the hospital. The place where people make it their job to keep you from rest so you can get better.

Tiffany had been inundated with people helping her. All the time. At all hours. Helping her and Ramsay adjust to their new baby girl and feel comfortable with her.

Coming home felt like a respite. A chance to sleep and segue into life as parents. As a family.

Brooklyn has some ideas of her own.

New parents often have a romanticized view of bringing baby home. Here is this new little being, totally dependent on you for nourishment and protection and care. A little one to love, who will love you back.

Putting it that way makes it sound like you’re bringing home a puppy.

Puppies, however, are fairly predictable. Babies are not.

Brooklyn, for all her cuteness and wonder, cries. When she wants to eat. When she’s messy.

Or for no discernible reason.

And that little sweetheart can get herself worked up into a tizzy.

Which can frustrate parents. It frustrated me with my kids. With no immediate language skills to calmly explain, “I’m really hungry, but I’m having difficulty learning this nursing thing,” it becomes a challenge.

Not insurmountable. Inconvenient.

Do I wonder why I want my way now? Why having things turn out in the manner that bests suits me is an issue?

I’ve had years to practice this. To refine demanding as a fine art form.

The Jews of Jesus’ time had their own demands. They were looking for Messiah.

They absolutely knew He would look a certain way.

Rome was oppressive. They were getting taxed by the government for living there, even though it was more a captivity experience than a choice. They were getting taxed by their appointed King Herod so he could  build things to his heart’s content. And even their own people (think Matthew) were taking advantage of them.

They weren’t being treated fairly, and they wanted justice.

Messiah would definitely be a strong King. A Warrior who would come in and save them from their miserable plight.

They got a Baby. Born of a humble carpenter and his bride. A humble Servant. Not a swashbuckling Warrior.

That wasn’t who the Jews expected.

It was so easy for them to picture what it should have been like. If it had been their way.

God had other ideas.

His agenda was to come in humility so the masses would listen to Him. Not a frightening Warrior-King, but a strong and gentle Shepherd who would give up His life for us so we could experience restoration and a right relationship with God.

Brooklyn? She’ll grow and learn to voice her needs. Her folks will learn her different cries. And adjust.

God? He’s speaking to us in the most obvious way possible–Jesus coming to live among us. In language and actions we can understand.

If we are willing to listen. And respond.

I guess my way may not be the best way.