Unfathomably Roby.
It occured to me today that this is how it is. An endless cycle of not understanding. By the time we know Roby at seven weeks, she’ll be Roby at seven weeks and a day, a toddler, a child, a kid, a grown up. In the moments of frustration it’s easy to wish you understood what to do, how to make things better, how to navigate this new and unfolding situation with more grace. But if you could do that, wouldn’t you be robbing yourself of something fundamental? Like today.
I feel lovely when I change Roby’s diaper because I do it well. I do it well because I’ve done it a number of times very poorly. I’ve figured out how to do it in a way that doesn’t up set her, for now. Had I not struggled, were I not destined to continue to struggle as her diapers change and she does, I wouldn’t enjoy this thing that is not often looked at as good.
People seldom appreciate the changing of a diaper. But when you once did it badly, but now do it well, it’s a joy.
The point is that raising a child is something that you are necessarily always figuring out. It is always unfolding, uncertain, curious and new. Doing it well isn’t a matter of experience, it’s a matter of compassion and eager curiosity. It’s a matter of forgiveness because you will never not be doing it for the first time. This is true of almost everything.
Being bad at it is the point. Not just of taking care of a baby, but of building furniture, talking to your parents, running, making love, painting, cooking macaroni.
This is why when people ask why God lets bad things happen, they’re missing the point very badly. They’ve gone wide.