Motherhood and the Singing of Grace

Come, Thou fount of every blessing

Tune my heart to sing Thy grace

-Hymn

I am the vine; you are the branches. Whoever abides in me and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. 

-Jesus, John 15:5

There’s a lot about being a mom NO ONE TELLS YOU. 

Like, how it now takes 3 hours to watch a 45 minute episode. 

Or about the FLUID. Oh, the fluid. So much of life now is about the FLUID. 

Or how you develop laser eyesight in the darkest of nights, searching for a fallen pacifier for your desperate infant. And your own desperate self. 

Or how 3 in the morning feels much the same as 3 in the afternoon. 

Or how you will cry more than your baby over trying to get her to eat. 

Or how you don’t really mind all the poops and diaper changes.

Or how you can live off your baby’s smiles FOR DAYS. 

Tonight I was dead tired. Like, so tired. I haven’t slept for a full night since the SPRING OF THIS YEAR. AND IT’S PRACTICALLY CHRISTMAS, PEOPLE. It’s just better not to think about it. And for the countless time, I had to go wash a sink full of bottle parts and pump parts because this is my life now and for the foreseeable future. WHEN ALL I WANT TO DO IS WATCH TV. That’s really ALLLLLLL I WANT TO DO. And eat snacks. My desires are oh so simple now. Oh, wait, that’s all I ever really wanted to do before…ahem. 

But alas. My task was in front of me—the approximately 2432587235 bottle and pump parts to wash. I stood in front of the sink, waiting for the water to heat up. And I had to while the Daughter napped. THIS WAS MY WINDOW. 

And a strange thing happened.

In spite of my aching exhaustion, in spite of just needing to zone out, in spite of feeling generally discouraged, I felt the urge to SING. 

Oh yes, that’s another thing they don’t tell you. 

As soon as they hand that baby to you, you become a freaking SINGER and SONGSTRESS. It’s innate. It’s inevitable. And thankfully, my daughter has a father who is NOT tune-deaf and can teach her to sing correctly. Her mother, on the other hand, loves singing but it’s a total happy accident if she sings in tune. 

Anyway, I’ve been singing pretty solidly for 6 months now. In the beginning, it was old Keith Green songs and hymns, as those were all I could remember at 2 in the morning. Now I’ve STUDIED UP and can sing some more common lullabies and baby songs, and let me tell you, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star and You are My Sunshine are BIG hits around here. Also, Good Morning from Singin’ in the Rain, because this is ME we’re talking about. 

So there I am, the hot water spilling out of the tap, and suddenly, Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing starting spilling out too. And as I sang to myself about Jesus seeking me when I was a stranger, and rescuing me from danger, and how great a debtor I am to His grace, and asking Him to seal my heart for His courts above, my super annoying and very repetitive task wasn’t the worst. And my exhaustion, a very real thing, wasn’t too much. As I reminded myself about His gospel, His good news, I remembered that it’s good news for me now. 

In this new season of life. For a tired new mama with fibromyalgia and a million things to do and think and worry about. The gospel of Jesus—the news that God loves me, a sinner, and invites me into His kingdom—is a refreshing wind, a long and peaceful and deep exhale. As I moved into O Holy Night, I was more at peace. Not because anything had really changed. I’m still going to have to wash these finicky plastic pieces many more times. I’m still going to be exhausted for what feels like FOREVER. I’m still surrounded by temptation to worry and fret and complain about hard things. But the simple act of lifting my voice lifted my spirits and thoughts to the One who listens, who hears, and who is with me, always. 

So as long as motherhood feels crazy and wonderful and reveals HOW COMPLETELY OUT OF MY DEPTH I AM, I will be singing away. So for the rest of all time, really. So sorry not sorry. Good thing I’ve been practicing night and day, huh. 

Your coffee should be the size of your infant's head. 

Roots

Why Should the Devil have All the Good Music?

-Larry Norman

Let the message of Christ dwell among you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom through psalms, hymns, and songs from the Spirit, singing to God with gratitude in your hearts.

-The Apostle Paul, in his letter to the Colossians

I've been changing my mind recently on a topic that I never, ever, ever thought to change my mind on. I'm pretty surprised myself, after being a young teenager of the 1990s-wearing every Christian t-shirt known to man and buying WWJD bracelets. I used to purchase every new Steven Curtis Chapman and Michael W. Smith album, and can probably recite all the lyrics of "Shine" by the Newsboys. Reading lots of Gilbert Morris and Frank Perretti novels, I also bought a lot of Christian POGS. And Redemption cards. Anyway, I've come a long way since then. I've worked at Christian camps and Christian bookstores and Christian software companies, enough to give me a sometimes(ok, mostly) cynical view of things labeled "Christian." Don't get me wrong-some of it is great stuff and has helped me tremendously on my walk of faith-I love writers like Henri Nouwen, Frederick Buechner, G.K. Chesterton, Dorothy Sayers, Philip Yancy, Gary Thomas, Charles Spurgeon, Fenelon, and musicians like Keith Green, Wes King, Leeland, the David Crowder Band, Ten Shekel Shirt, and so many more. Some of it should make us all cringe. Like the shirt that says, "Jesus is My Easy Button," or a book that compared faith to going through a drive-thru window and ordering whatever you want from God. Ouch.

Anyway, the thing I've been changing my mind about is...wait for it...CHRISTIAN MUSIC. Let me back up. I used to think that Christians should only listen and read Christian material...whatever that means. I think it meant buying all material at the Christian bookstore. Then I was introduced to the little idea that for the Christian, there is no sacred and secular divide. Not that it is a license to read and watch and imbibe everything-but that truth can be found in unlikely places, that Christians need not fear the so-called secular. I've found that some so-called "secular" movies or books have a stronger Christian worldview than many items I sold at the Christian bookstore. The Count of Monte Cristo, anyone? Gilead by Marianne Robinson? Vanity Fair? Foyle's War? The King's Speech? So I started to explore other kinds of music, other kinds of movies, other kinds of books. And I've found some fantastic offerings! I've mentioned on this blog before how sad music helped me with a serious bout of depression a few years ago-Patsy Cline, She & Him, Brandi Carlile. Sad music helped me process and name my grief at that time, much like Psalms in the Old Testament. Melancholy music will probably always be my favorite, for whatever reason. But lately I've been realizing my need for more faith-based music in my life. And I can't believe it, really-me, who used to scoff at all the bandwagons everyone hopped on (Left Behind, Purpose Driven Life, Thomas Kincaide, Emerging Church), who rolled eyes at the stacks of Christian romance novels people would buy, and the music that only seemed to be the "Christian" version of whatever was popular outside the church.

I still believe there's a place for being wary of accepting whatever is labeled Christian. For sure. There's so many lackluster products and mediocre stories that are told just because it's dubbed a certain way. I want to support good art, good entertainment, regardless of if it is sold at at a Christian bookstore or not. We need to be discerning of whatever we choose to entertain, to instruct us.  But in the last few years I've been dealing with chronic pain, chronic illness. Melancholy tunes are not always the best choice for me. My husband and I went on a little road trip to the coast last month, and we listened and sang along to every cd in the car on the way. Awesome. Ben had a cd with some Christian music on it that I didn't know, and I really liked it! I actually ENJOYED listening to it. I shocked myself. I think I'd stopped believing that the Christian music had anything to offer outside of Sunday morning. Then I realized that I still need good music that reminds me of Christ, reminds me of who He is, and reminds me that I'm not on my own here. I'm coming full circle back to a place for Christian music, leaving some crusty cynicism behind, and filling my head and heart with some reminding truth. As someone who constantly struggles with depression, and who lives in a culture where entertainment defines the individual, leaving my comfortable skepticism behind has been a little rough. I cling to my incredulity, which is a little too easy sometimes. I pride myself on things I like, and don't we all? And although I won't be giving up my crooningly sad tunes, I'm ready to balance out my listening habits with a little more doctrine, a little more truth about the universe and the good news of Christ. I see it as a kind of daily communion for the ears and for the heart-the act of communion-the eating of the bread, the drinking of the juice-reminds us of Christ, reminds us of His life and death and resurrection. This simple act grounds us, plants us, identifies us with Christ. He knows we need reminding; He knows we are but dust. And the simple act of listening to music that reminds us of who He is and who we are is just what we need, too.

Some Favorite Albums:

The Sound of Melodies, Leeland

The Ministry Years, Keith Green

Risk, Ten Shekel Shirt

Illuminate, David Crowder Band

Best of, Bebo Norman

The Jesus Album, Rich Mullins

Best of, Jennifer Knapp