In his commentary, the priest went on to comment on how truly astonishing and wonderful is the notion that the all powerful God of the universe takes delight in each of his children. In multiple places in the Old Testament (which is where a Bible in a Year journey lingers for well over half the year), there are versions of the following verse, “the Lord will fight for you, and you have only to be still” (Exodus 14:14). In case you haven’t noticed by now, the Bible is an exceptionally violent book. Although we live in a fairly stable and peaceful society (at least for now), there is a lot of language in both the Old and New Testaments around warfare and fighting. I know you know that a lot of our lives can feel contentious and challenging, maybe not to the point of bloodshed at least in our sheltered part of the universe (again, for now. The globally divisive and shattering events of the last 2 years make me hesitant to claim our society as peaceful and civilized too emphatically). There is something so comforting in knowing that you have God on your side, and he delights in you even more than I do.
I am so taken with the language “delights in you.” It is precisely the perfect description of
how I felt about you as a tiny boy (my tiniest baby at a scrawny 6 pounds, 2
ounces—did you know you were nearly a preemie?)
Every mother delights in her infant—in the round bellies and yummy toes
and delicious yawns and squeaks. What is
less celebrated in all the mom blogs is how we delight in you as you grow. I am so blessed to be a mom of many, and I
have grown to appreciate the milestones in the younger kids that I mourned with
you and your sister. I know I grieved
the passage of time with every change in your shape and scent over the years
with your older sister, less so with you, and even less with each subsequent
sibling. I am more sanguine about the
passage of time, the inevitable metamorphosis from chubby baby to handsome
man. I delight in you.
You came home in the middle of the morning today, right in the middle of
the school day. You had just finished a
dentist appointment and had been instructed to come home and shave before
returning to school. Your Catholic
school requires all students to maintain a clean shave, and you were getting a
bit scruffy. Like almost every grown and
nearly grown man in the world you got a little lazy about shaving during the
pandemic, first because you were holed up at home where I haven’t been able to
maintain much of a dress code in decades, and later because your mask hid your
scruff. That little circumstance
delighted me. And reaching around you to
give you a quick side hug goodbye and realizing I—even at my nearly 6 feet—just
reached your shoulder. You delight me in
your tall, lean, scruffy faced body.
Everything about you delights me.
When I was searching for the verse that inspired this post, I also came across this one, “The steps of a man are ordered by the Lord who takes delight in his journey” Psalm 37:23. This one also seems particularly relevant to your life as you leave my home. Up until now, I have directed most of the steps of your journey, but now it will be between you and the Lord, at least as much as you let Him in.
I think it is comforting to know that our God is delighted by the journey. This is powerful to remember in the uncertainty that will certainly overshadow some of your years to come. As exciting as an uncharted future can be, it can also be quite daunting, and I think it is powerful to realize that God delights in the walking of your path, right along side of you.
So, before you go, keep being delightful.
But, more than anything, know that there is absolutely nothing you can
do to remove the pure pleasure your dad and I, and your God, take in you.
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