unleavened bread
sleeping with bread
Introvert, yup, that’s me. Perhaps, then I should consider yesterday to be a time when I felt most completely myself. But I don’t.
I work in the nursery at church once a month (twice in months with five Sundays). I’m fine with the little ones. Two year olds, bubbles, crayons, Veggie Tales, diaper changes or potty visits - these are all well within my general job description. I don’t have to stretch too far. The problem comes in when you add other adults to the equation. I feel comfortable with how I relate to the little people; I just don’t like having an audience.
Yesterday, one of the moms stayed with her son who was feeling mildly separation anxious. I couldn’t seem to connect to my normal mode of being. When a little one cried for momma and didn’t want to be touched or looked at by anyone else. I felt helpless. I felt like the mom was judging every action to determine whether I was qualified to be left with her son unsupervised, even though he wasn’t the one crying. Normally, the fussy babes are my specialty. Yesterday, being nervous took the reins. I felt so out of touch with myself on the inside, and I couldn’t wait for the service to be over.
I don’t like not feeling comfortable in my own skin. It seems the insecurity multiplies exponentially once the cycle starts.
This exercise forces me to balance my thoughts. If I can so easily identify a time when I felt least like myself, it should be just as simple to identify a single moment when I felt the most like me. I draw a blank. Perhaps this is because I am in a rut. I so badly want the time to be one which shows a more redeeming side of me. I want to revel in a good virtue – a part of me that provokes pride. Yet, I am forced to face the reality that this episode really does reflect, also, the time when I felt the most myself.
Deep under the surface layers, I am no more than a scared child – daily needing the arms of God to comfort me, His voice to speak to the very depths of my being, “Fear not, for I am with you.”
Labels: sleeping with bread
posted by atypical at
11:41 PM
1 Comments:
Hey T,
Guess what? I work in the nursery once a month. At least, I will starting February. I took a year off at the same time that I went on sabbatical for our church's Leadership Core. I do the little ones: birth to walking. Of course, few people bring in their babies before 3 or 4 months old nowadays. I really do prefer the true newbies. Even being an extravert, I would probably have felt uncomfortable with a mom in there if I didn't already know her.
I like what you said about this exercise forcing you to balance your thoughts. That's one thing I've realized about it, too. It is such a perspective tool for me. I'm so glad you join me every week!
And, coincidentally (or not) I wrote these words in my prayer book yesterday: (In response to the idea that Jesus wants us to come to him as "little ones.") For me, thinking of myself as a little one relates more to my need to turn, as a little one, to God the Father for peace and comforting. It is so hard to do--the feel of arms around me in a protective hug seem so much more real. But whose arms would they be? (By that last statement, I mean that I don't know whose arms could really do what I am asking, that really only God can bring the peace and comfort I desire.)
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