Communion with the Little One

So, I was never really one of those moms who was like, “And, the second I saw him and held him in my arms, everything changed. My whole life was different and new and I would do anything for my baby.” This is not to say that I did not love my little cuddle bug A LOT when he was born. I did. I was thrilled to have him and I still am. But, for me, I was pretty much the same person before he was born as after he was born, except with an adorable baby and sleeping much less.

I am also not a mom that is totally awed by all the amazingly wonderful and brilliant things my baby does. Yes, he is really quite cute. And seems to be a bright little bee. But I am pretty low key about him and his magic. I think in a pretty good and healthy way.

I say all of this for two reasons. First, because sometimes I feel like maybe a sucky mom because I don’t run around saying how wonderful life has been since he has been born and how it has changed everything and the sun rises and sets differently and all. I think there is this cult of motherhood that tells women that you have to just love your child and have him or her change your world and it will be immediate and like magic. I think this sets people up to feel pretty terrible when they are in month number six (or in my case, 14) of not sleeping through the night and all of a sudden your house is chaos all the time and you only see your partner in passing while one of you is changing a diaper and the other is… oh, I don’t know… studying for her general exams in October. Anyway, so on Mother’s Day when everyone is crooning about how magic mothers are and how much they love mothers and flowers and roses and all of that, I guess for whatever reason I felt inspired to bring it down a notch for all those moms out there who sometimes wonder if they are doing it right even though the fireworks of love and peace and perfect joy didn’t/don’t go off like they “should.”

The second reason I wrote about all of this is so that the next thing I am about to say about my little toddler boy doesn’t sound like the ultimately cheeziness. That is, it isn’t my style to go around crooning about the boy, so when I say something like how he taught me a really profound lesson, it doesn’t get lumped into the pile of 101 profound and beautiful things my baby did THIS MORNING.

Geez. I did too much lead up to this. I do this in my papers too. I go on and on in the intro setting everything up and then I have two and half sentences of substance to say.

Anyway, our boy loves to drink out of glasses. Sippy cups are okay, but he really prefers to drink either water or apple juice out of the big glasses that are obviously too big for a one year old. But we’re pretty flexible, so we do it even though it often means that when he is done he pulls the glass away pretty fast and the juice or water gets on him or us.

And he has taken to insisting on sharing his drinks, and then tonight, his strawberries. He is insistent – he takes a drink, and then puts the cup to mine or my partner’s mouth in a very insistent way and we take a drink and then he takes another drink. He mushes the strawberries up between his fingers and sort of shoves one in into my mouth, with such a pleased look on his face, and then squishes one up and puts it in his mouth. And somehow this led me to “get” communion in a way I never have before. Regular readers of this blog know I have a highly ambivalent relationship with Christianity and can never decide really if I am Christian or not. And for some reason I have always loved communion – there was something that was so special about it – like this thread that went back throughout my life and childhood and then back throughout time. It felt like a very connecting sort of ritual. Like I was part of something really special. Yet, for the last few years, I never take part because I just feel like I can’t do it until I know more where I stand. This has been sad for me.

Yet, somehow through sharing my apple juice and strawberries with my boy – I got something. This idea of table fellowship. Communion not as some ritual that we do in church – that marks us as in or out – but as joyful sharing of nourishment, in communion with each other. It is an intimate thing to feed and give a drink to someone else. This is why the bread and wine is not sat out on a table for each person to go up and get themselves, but we give it to each other.

I think with a lot of things, the meaning of a moment can’t quite come through so well in words. The sweet smell of my little boy and his juice. His pre-linguistic self knowing that there is something important about me taking a drink and then him and then me and then him. The clear joy and satisfaction he gets from making sure that we are sharing – that we are a team, that in many ways we are one.

It helped me better understand why I am so drawn to communion and miss it so much. Yes, yes, I know there is that whole bread/body, wine/blood thing. But that is for another post. For now, I will commune with my little one, and appreciate what he has to teach me about life and love and faith.

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20 Responses to Communion with the Little One

  1. Chalicechick says:

    Beautiful and amazing and thought-provoking and I’m going to go link to you right now.

  2. epilonious says:

    “Try this, I think it’s awesome and I think you will too! If you like it, I will glean more glee”

    Delightful post. Found it via ChaliceChick. Thanks for typing it up :D

  3. uumomma says:

    I read this earlier today at work and it is exactly the kind of writing I’d been looking for–a real moment with a life lesson in it. Even made me want to start writing again. thanks for sharing.

  4. Sarah says:

    Awww, so beautiful. Love your message and reflections. What tender descriptions. You know, DoC thinking on communion reminds me of what you wrote.

    Thanks so much for sharing. Love, S

  5. Leigh Caskey Webb says:

    I am a mother of adult children and a teacher of very young children and I found this to be a lovely, lovely spiritually insightful piece.

  6. Elizabeth says:

    Sarah, as I was thinking about this, I was thinking of some of my experiences at Hope and what a beautiful communion you all always have. Chalice Chick, Thank you very much for the link. It made me realize that you probably don’t know that I read every single one of your posts, but because I use a reader I hardly ever comment.

    Thank you every one for your kind comments. They mean a lot to me. Elizabeth

  7. Shaya says:

    I really like the first part. I think there are so many things that we are “supposed to feel” and so many things that are supposed to be amazing/special/life chaning and then when they aren’t it’s a big let down. You should write for the U.N. where preambles are important. :P Just kidding.

    I think Elijah the prophet would have approved of communion. He was all about going into people’s homes and having them share their food and drink with a poor beggar. Very beautiful post. You do such a good job combining stories and message in blog posts and more notably in sermons.

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