"There were several mothers shopping up and down the aisles with young children in tow-- many of them snarling and snapping at the over-lively, curiosity-filled, wildly energetic kids. I wanted to grab the mothers, embrace them, tell them, 'Do you realize what you have done? You have given birth to a child, a child-- this miracle, this wonder, this glory. You're a Madonna! Why aren't you in awe and on your knees with the magi, with the shepherds?' Luckily, I restrained myself. 'Madonna' probably would not have had the same meaning for them as it had for me."

--Eugene Peterson, "Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places," p 58

Last week, I attended a house concert given by The Blackthorn Project, a fabulously inspiring couple from Woodland Park that travels around the country and the world playing beautiful music, which, they explain, serves as journal entry and remembrances to life as they continue to work it out. Laurie, the fiddle player, had been speaking for much of the day (they also graciously led our worship at Timberline Oldtown that morning) about her recent deep realization of the expanse of God's love and related a story about the manifestation of this love in this life of her nineteen-month-old daugter. When her child was born, she said, she remebered holding this tiny peice of creation in her hands and thanking the Father for such a gift and expressingher love for the baby, only for her prayer to be returned with the words, "I love her even more than you do," spoken clearly from the Spirit of God.

Although I am not a mother and do not plan on having children of my own for quite some time, this idea really resonated with me. Often, when I hear stories about mothers and children and the raising of these small lives, my mind goes directly to the kids I work with every day, the students I interact with through my involvement with the School of Education, and the students that will be under my care when they enter my classroom in just a little while. I can't help but think of these small people as my own children, lives that my career path is leading me to be a significant part of. As Laurie talked about this message from Abba about his love for the child that has been given to her for this short time on earth, I instantly wanted to hang onto that truth for my own student. As much as I love the children I find attached to my legs and arms at work and as much as I am looking forward to helping children realize thier own creativity in an art classroom, it opens my world wider to realize that God loves these children immensely more than I could ever imagine loving them myself.

There is something about this admission from God that makes me realize that I am only a small part of all that he does in our lives and in this world. I am reminded that I am only his hands and I am only invited through his grace into this work of life that he is continually recreating.

In his chapter on creation, Peterson talks at length about the wonder that comes from an awareness of the life infused into our beings as humans. In the passage quoted above, I am inspired again to be the sort of teacher that cultivates the image of God in my students. The more I work with young people, especially kids in the early elementary grades, the more I am in awe of their creativity, thier energy, the life that is yet to be subdued and diminished by "maturity." The more I work with these little people, the more I am challenged to harness all of this life towards good, to grow it, to stregthen it so as to aid its survival through the harsh world. It is as if the small bodies of children are just bursting with the Spirit of God.

Each day, I get a few steps closer to this profession, this way of life that I think far exceeds many paths in life. Just the thought of being in a classroom, cultivating young minds and influencing the future of our world for good makes me feel right at home. It is my hope and prayer that I would be continually reminded of my place in the larger scheme of things-- situated within the house of God's love that is beyond all I could ever dream or imagine.