This morning I took a shower. This is not in anyway a headline for the normal human being. As a first time mom who run and screams while taking her dogs out (and just the backyard no less) because that’s a possible 5 full minutes away from a sleeping baby, this is the big news of the day. The rare moments I get to shower, I constantly open the shower door and peek my head out and strive with all my energy to hear any morsel of sound in case my caterpillar starts to stir. He’s not much of a crier, he’s more of a grunter when in need, so I need to listen very intently. And yet I got my full shower in without even a single sound from my sleeping boy. As the hot water splashed all around me it just felt so… so good. Such a luxury and I enjoyed it so deeply.
As much as I have come to love and appreciate showers, I have come to love showering my son even more. The moment his little feet even touches the warm sink water filling up his little tub, he immediately becomes still and quiet. It silences him and he enjoys the full moment of tranquility. He cannot speak yet and his facial expressions only tell us so much, but it is clear that he really enjoys his baths. And I do too. It doesn’t matter how dirty he has gotten – and honestly, he really doesn’t get that dirty, and cannot get too dirty for me – in that moment he fully rests in my arms and his father’s arms as we splash the warm water all around him making sure it’s as gentle as possible. I squeeze out the foaming soap and rub it all over him, breathing in the scent of renewal. My heart skips beats as I see how much he trusts and enjoys that moment of being washed by us, by our warmth. Then I take time to just hold and cuddle with him in his towel to make sure he is warm and safe as I deeply breathe him in. And I can do this again and again. When I was a child I hated showers. In my mind, I was going to just get dirty again. But washing my little boy, I know I have to do it again, and I don’t mind. I love it. I love that moment of complete trust, warmth, and cleaning between us two.
I used to think that God must be tired of cleansing me. No matter how often I came back to church or a prayer night or a retreat, I would just need to come back again not too long after. He would clean me and make all things right and before long, there I was, ashamed to be dirtied again in need of another spiritual bath. My shame often conquered the celebration that should exist in such times of cleansing. I did not consider the thought that He was enjoying making each occurrence as warm possible. I could not even fathom the idea that perhaps He loved each of these moments. It didn’t matter how dirty I got – and honestly, we really don’t get that dirty, not too dirty for Him – in those moments when I fully rested in my Father’s arms as He splashed purity and righteousness all around me, He was making sure it was as gentle as possible. And perhaps His heart is stirred by my trust and enjoyment of being washed by His warmth. That He could enjoy the moment immediately after of just holding me and reminding me that I am safe. I am only beginning to realize now that the God of everything could love that moment of complete trust, warmth, and cleaning between us two.
And that He could do it again and again.