The Write Word


It was inevitable, no matter how hard I tried to ignore the warning signs, I knew this day was coming. With every growth spurt and every new learned movement, Baby Grant and I have crept toward THE END. The end of his freedom. And mine.

For the last 7 months, 17 if you count gestation, he has stayed where I put him. In a seat, on a quilt, in a chair. That has all changed as of last week. At long last he figured out the hand and knee rhythm and off he took. One moment a wee one batting at the floor, the next a blur of motion. I have tried my best to keep him in a safe zone, placing a quilt on the floor and surrounding him with interesting toys, but he will have none of it. Oh no, HE prefers more exciting things like lamp cords and stairs. After snatching a handful of plant, dirt and all, and sticking it in his mouth I had enough. So out from the recesses of the dark dungeon of the garage storage space it came. The baby cage. Or as I like to call it ….The Play Prison.

I have done all I can do to make it a pleasant place. He has his blanket, a variety of soft, visually stimulating SAFE toys… but no…. they do not keep his interest. He peers through the web of the 5 ft enclosure at the really fun things just outside. Like my drapes, the piano legs and my plants.

In his heart of hearts he longs for these beautiful and irresistible toys. If only his mean ol mother would not deprive of him by putting up this ridicules boundary. And so he weeps, he wails he, bangs his baby head against the sides. Let me tell you, there is no fury like infant fury. And with it comes a profusion of bodily fluids out of both ends. It gets ugly, and it gets ugly fast.

It makes me wonder how many times my loving Heavenly Father has placed boundaries in my life, boundaries I have not appreciated. Boundaries of budget, income, opportunities, talent. How much time have I wasted, gazing longingly at what was just outside my boundary? How many times have I overlook and underappreciated the blessings he had hand picked for me? Ouch. Forgive me Father.
I’m taking some time to thank God today for the boundaries that keep me from temptation. Like NOT responding to an old flames FB request, NOT picking up kitchen-do-over magazines that tempt me to covet, setting an alarm to remind me of my prayer hour. Little things maybe. But boundaries non the less. It would be foolish of me to protect my baby and not myself. We live… we learn.