It’s relentless, Father,

Caring for this baby.

I love to do it,

But it seems there isn’t a moment

When I’m not needed

to feed her,

change her,

bath her,

comfort her …

One cycle leading into another

In a never-ending performance.

I just want a hot cup of tea—

not lukewarm, or cold, milk curdled on top.

But if I find the time to make it,

I don’t have time to drink it.

I just want a sandwich—

anything which resembles food.

But if I find the time to get it,

I don’t have time to eat it.

I just want to go to the bathroom—

surely that’s in the parents’ manifesto.

But if I find a moment to get there,

I am encased in the noise of this crying baby.

And the end of the tunnel slips further away,

Like the end of a rainbow.

I guess you understand, Father.

We make constant demands on you,

Complaining or criticising

when our little world is upset,

Demanding your attention

to solve our problems,

and meet our needs.

Father, your love endures all things.

Sustain me with your strength.

Preserve me with your patience,

Nourish me with your nearness.

Empower me with your presence.

Compose me with your calmness.

Love is patient, love is kind. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. (1 Corinthians 13: 4, 7, NIV)


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