Babble and Joy

I often write these with my son in the same room. He's usually pushing a truck or flipping through a book. He's never quiet (go figure), and more than once I've had to move into the other room to finish an article. But usually I just go on writing.

How can I concentrate with all that noise? Teresa asks me that all the time. Well, it's not easy. You probably know that already. But it's worth it.

You see, I would take his babble and his whiny tears and our scratched coffee table over anything else this world could offer to simply be with him and hear his voice.

There's an old saying that if the whole world were full of books, the sea turned to ink, and every living creature were employed in writing about just one of God's perfections--his mercy, his love, his goodness, his justice, his wisdom--the books would be filled, the sea would be drained and writers would be exhausted before any one of his perfections could even be remotely explained. That's how big our God is.

When I heard that the other day, it just floored me. I mean, if it's true, then why do I even try?

But then I think of my son babbling on the floor, and I realize that, as much as I love him, God loves me more. No matter how far short we fall in trying to express the truth about God, our Father takes joy in our babble.

Don't Even Think About It!

"Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her"––that's what St. Paul says (Ephesians 5:25).

Well, that's a tall order, isn't it? Let me tell you what it means in daily life.

I'm forbidden from drinking milk straight from the carton and dipping my bread into the butter jar. Wife's orders. I know, it's rough.

While I could get away with it when she's not around, I choose not to even think about it.
It's not much to ask, is it? 

If we can get the seemingly insignificant stuff right first, the hard stuff becomes a little easier.

Jesus died on the cross for his bride, the Church. I can at least be a little more careful with the milk carton.