Tip of My Iceberg

You can’t keep a good woman down.

Even if she’s not quite two feet tall.

Brooklyn, at five weeks, doesn’t sit still. She flails. Moving her arms as if they had a life of their own.

Not hard to understand. Her mom, aunts and uncle were constant motion machines.

Genetic flailing.

Brooklyn is adjusting to living outside the womb.

Gone is the warm security of a small, organized habitat.

Gone is the quiet calm of sweet solitude.

Gone is personal space.

She’s making her needs known. Crying. Pooping.

And the flailing thing. Arms waving constantly.

Which doesn’t encourage restful sleep. Or allow her to settle herself.

Tiff’s been practicing the five S’s of calming a baby. (Where was this stuff when I was a young mom?) The first S is swaddling. The cornerstone in helping a baby relax.

It looks uncomfortable and confining. I’d fight against anything or anybody that tried to hold my arms down.

But the theory is that babies prefer the environment they had in the womb. Swaddling is supposed to be like a soft caress.

More like a baby straight jacket. Or a mini burrito.

Admittedly, many babies fight against the process of being wrapped tightly. Brooklyn pops her little arms out as quickly as her mom tucks them back in.

Amazingly, the snug wrapping calms her after she stops fighting it.

And she sleeps.

Freedom to relax with the protection and restraint of a tight blanket.

Many things restrain us in life. Rules and regulations restrain us from acting as we please with no thought for others. Driving down the highway the wrong way at breakneck speed because I want to helps no one. Personal limitations restrain us from doing things that may not be good for us. Me choosing to play backup to Payton Manning as quarterback for the Denver Broncos would be a death wish.

Many restraints are helpful. Protective. Positive.

I fight restraints. Restrictions. I don’t enjoy being held back when I think I need or want to be doing something. Restrictions don’t feel freeing. They feel confining. Denying.

Who wants to be denied?

Demanding what we desire often hurts more than it helps.

It’s why God gives us parameters to live by. Not to keep us from enjoying life but to give us the freedom to not destroy ourselves in the process of our enjoyment.

It’s called real love.

“This is real love–not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as a sacrifice to take away our sins.”   1John 4:10

We are loved well by the One who made us. His love provides life. Something we can’t get on our own.

Real love isn’t restrictive. It’s redemptive.

Watching Tiff wrap Brooklyn like a human burrito? Uncomfortable.

Knowing Tiff’s deep love for her daughter? Unbelievable.

Receiving love from God restores the who I’m meant to be.

Rather than imagining His love as restricting, I’m seeing it as His strong arms around me.

Wrapped in an embrace of love, hope, promise and acceptance. Not fighting, but submitting to love.

No human burrito here.