BabyBird isn’t a big fan of his car seat. In his defense, he doesn’t really go anywhere, both a blessing and curse of being born in a pandemic. He doesn’t go anywhere, unless it’s to pick up the grocery order, so he isn’t well practiced the way his brother and sisters were by eight months old. He is starting to speak some and he’s gotten really good with “her there!” when you walk in a room. He yells “mama” consistently and pretty much constantly all day. He’s also learned “all done”. He chooses to use those words most when he’s tired of his car seat. The fit of anger over the car seat turns into a pitiful, puddle of tears and repeating “all done” over and over.
Today we drove up to the mountains and did some hiking before picking up our grocery order. BabyBird is happiest when he’s attached to me, in any way. He loves his carrier and because it’s snowy and cold here, he gets to bury his little face in my neck. He’s a good little rider as long as he’s with his mama. We completed our hike, grabbed the grocery order and headed home.
And darn that old car seat.
Almost immediately, he began screaming. And within minutes, he was completely distraught and yelling, “all done!” over and over again. Despite stops to settle him, Mouse singing and comforting him in the seat next to him, he was still just done…and we still had an hour and forty-five minutes left in our drive home.
As I listened to my baby scream, knowing there was nothing I could do, I thought about how often I am “all done”. I thought of the many times since we moved to the Rez and then since the beginning of the pandemic that I’ve said aloud, “I’m done!”
The truth is-he’d been fed, he’d burped, his diaper was clean and dry. We had held and snuggled and spoken to him in hushed tones so he’d know he wasn’t alone, that we were with him and he was ok. He was still “all done”. But y’all-I had to leave him in that car seat because it’s what was best for him. That seat keeps him safely anchored and IF something were to happen, he would stay strapped in and hopefully, prayerfully well protected.
Then it hit me.
My good and His glory.
Just like my heart squeezes each time BabyBird yells for me and says “all done”, I know my Father’s heart does the same when I say “I’m done!”. And yet, the situation doesn’t change.
The car seat is for BabyBird’s good. He can’t see it, he can’t understand it and he wants the situation fixed and he wants it fixed-ten minutes ago…
As do I. As do you, yes?
Have you asked yourself in the past ten months, will this end? I have.
After today and the car seat fiasco, I want to remember that in the same way I’m protecting my baby-I’m being protected too.
In the same way I want what’s best and can see the end game for BabyBird, I’m reminded that my Father does the same.
He can see what I can not.
He can do what I can not.
He knows what I do not.
Even when I’m done, He is not.
I’m going to lean into those truths this week, friends. Will you join me?