Feet

 Every morning

I lay out the pieces of my life

And watch for fire to descend

Psalm 5 (The Message)

Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.

I have recently caught a habit in myself which I am trying to change. 

When someone asks 'do you work?' I reply no, because my children both have special needs, how could I hold down a job and manage all the appointments? Who would give me a job anyway?

The problem is, even though that is true, it's not really why I am at home. I chose to stay home with Harry long before any diagnoses came our way. I know that not everyone has that choice, and I know that for many it's not the right choice, but it's the one Dave and I made. 

So why am I trying to justify myself? Do I not see value in what I do? 

The answer, I think, is a complicated one. It's always a struggle to know how much and how soon to share with people about my kids' extra needs. It is undoubtedly helpful, even essential at this point, for me to be home with them, to help them manage every day life and to liaise with all the professionals I need to see. But am I needing to show the person who asked (who presumably I just met) that my life has value, that I get things done, things that matter? Am I stuck in a mindset that measures value by productivity? What did you make/earn/achieve today? 

The truth is, I love to be able to pick my children up every day from school (I don't love morning school runs, hate 'em), to see their teachers, see who their friends are, take them bike riding or hunting for conkers. Harry is seven and it is dawning on me how short childhood is- I want to play with them while they still want me to. Not all the time. A lot of the time I want to drink tea and watch CSI. 

Alice is now full time in school, a time lots of mums choose to go back into work. But to be honest, I don't feel driven to do that yet. I am learning that the introvert in me is strong, and I am quite happy to come home, close the door and drink in the quiet. I do actually do quite a few things, mostly at church, but I am always longing for the quiet. 

This brings me to another point. While the way of the world is often to rank our usefulness in terms of profession or occupation or wage, in church we often mark ourselves on our 'ministries'- whether we lead Sunday School, or worship, or get to lots of bible studies etc. And the truth is that for anyone in a position as a carer- whether to young children, or older children or adults with special needs or illness- or anyone suffering illness and disability themselves- those ministries can often be limited. 

We had a difficult summer. I half expected it to be, but was taken by surprise at how hard it was. A time of transition, lack of routine and a mischievous sister all lead to high anxiety for Harry- which of course impacted all of us. I wrote down some verses and stuck them in the kitchen, as I took a deep breath and got stuck into parenting holiday- style:

His love has the first and last word in everything we do*

Clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience*

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart as working for the Lord*

We went to a lot of parks, went down a lot of slides, rode on a lot of trains, watched a lot of TV (there was plenty of sugar too, lets get the confession time over).

I mopped up tears and snot and emotions, including my own, dropped exhausted into bed every night, and tried to remember Jesus washing his disciples' feet. 

He didn't get a glamorous ministry. 

So I shouldn't complain if I don't.

Through the summer He quietly whispered encouragements and I offered up the broken pieces of my day, the joys and the utter failures, to Him, as my feet-washing of the day. 

A few days ago He put another spin on it, through a book given to me by a thoughtful friend. The following words are based on the story of the woman anointing Jesus's feet with perfume, which can be found in Matthew and Luke:

Jesus, my shepherd, doesn't seem to appraise value in the same way I do... He is interested in the wasteful expenditure of love and energy, just because it's in keeping with the sort of crazy love and sacrifice he showed in his life and death... All the sacrifices, the nappy changing... they cannot be worth it if they are just for our children. But they're not. Ultimately they are a perfume poured out for him. **

I was offering him the yucky muck off our feet. He showed me that it is perfume poured out on his feet.

He may have called you to rise high in your profession. He may have called you to give your profession up. He may have placed you in a ministry that reaches thousands. He may have called you to love and serve a few. He may have called you to hold on, to trust in the darkness.

Stephen served food to widows. 

Ruth loved her mother-in-law. 

Jesus spent much of his three year ministry investing in twelve men, one of whom was Judas.

He's the King of the upside-down, topsy-turvy kingdom, where the least matter, where the last are first, where the little children are to be our role models. 

He's the King of the mustard seed Kingdom.

*2 Corinthians 5, Colossians 3.

** The Life you never expected- thriving while parenting special needs children, by Andrew and Rachel Wilson