Years ago, my nephew, then 2, locked himself in the bathroom. His mom and dad, frantic, rescued him by coaxing him out the window. Another time, he locked himself in the car, and they called the fire department to get him out.
These were just a few of the adventures my sister and brother-in-law had in raising three children, who are now grown with kids of their own. I was the unmarried aunt who visited often and witnessed the chaos. Rumpled laundry on the couch, cookie crumbs on counters — and a dog romping merrily with a babbling baby.
Early on, I decided motherhood was just not for me. As much as I loved these kids, I was deeply relieved when my visit was over and I could return to the world of relative sanity. I was well into my 30s when I got married, and didn’t return to Catholicism until my 40s — so, when you look up “childless” in the dictionary, you’ll see my picture by it.
Still, whenever I hear that passage in Matthew’s Gospel where Jesus describes how people mystically encounter God, I know how much I missed.
“I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me a drink … naked and you clothed me,” he says. These words are often seen as his invitation to serve the poor. But, for me, they inevitably also conjure images of my harried sister and brother-in-law filling bottles, changing diapers and heeding midnight calls of “Drink of water!”
Christ’s words are a riveting reply to those who claim God is missing from the world. Some go so far as to declare him dead. But it seems they don’t know where to look.
Country-western singer George Strait succinctly sums it up in a song about meeting his baby girl for the first time. In the nursery he peers through the glass and sees this tiny miracle “sleeping like a rock.” He marvels that she has her mama’s eyes and his nose.
He admits he’s been to church and he’s read the Good Book, but in that moment he finally got it. “I saw God today,” he says.
Parents glimpse God whenever they spoon rice cereal into hungry little mouths and fill glasses with juice. Whenever they wrap a slippery baby in a towel after a bath. Whenever they sacrifice sleep soothing a toddler who had a bad dream.
Finding God in this way is a mystical truth. It can’t be analyzed by reason any more than love can. It’s a truth as mind-boggling as God coming to Earth as a baby. But what better way to proclaim that every infant is a gift? And that children bring something glorious and priceless to the world?
Yes, even the ones who drive parents crazy by putting make-up on the dog, hiding the remote control and letting the hamster loose at night.
Parents get a chance to really grasp the words of Christ: “Whatever you did for one of the least brothers of mine, you did for me.”
They do this multiple times a day without fanfare and applause. And, in a mysterious way, they get to meet God every day — something I wish I’d realized many years ago.
About the Author
