I was gonna be a HouseMama, not a MunchkinMama

I’ve been struggling with living incarnationally. Do you know how hard that is to do with an eight month old munchkin? My days are spent mostly managing fluids (going in one end with the excitement element being trying to anticipate which end fluids will then come out of) and finding items or activities that invoke the longest period of quiet (toys, kitchen utensils, trips to the store, naps, the Food Network).

I’ve been looking at the Biblical character of Anna, the widowed prophetess who is mentioned in Luke when the infant Christ was presented at Herod’s Temple. Anna rocks. Only three verses are mentioned about her, but man, they pack a punch! She lived a completely incarnational life! Which is something to admire, especially after considering that she was widowed at such a young age and didn’t have kids. One would think she wouldn’t have a lot to offer her culture, but Anna and God turned the negatives into positives:

Rather than becoming bitter, she practiced spiritual disciplines.
Rather than withdrawing, she lived in the center of cultural community.
Rather than leaning on her relatives for support, she completely trusted God to provide for her needs.
Rather than balking at being bestowed such a wonderfully complex spiritual gift, she used her prophesying gift.
Rather than remaining only in the temple, she was a member of a seeking faith community to whom she could share this joyous news.

As a child this probably wasn’t the way Anna would’ve imagined being able to live God’s love to her community. If she had children or remarried, most likely her time would’ve been spent focusing on her family. She could’ve focused on all the things she couldn’t do. But she creatively worked within what she *could* do: to be in the temple, to have free time to fast and pray, to share God’s word of Truth to her people.

I always thought that I would be the later-Anna. As a kid, I never dreamed about getting married or having kids: I wanted to write, and I always figured I’d do stuff by myself - a sort of Jo March before she hooked up with Friedrich in the end. In fact, my stock answer in college as to the “so, whatcha gonna do?” question was “Go to Europe. Open up a boarding school so my friends’ kids can get some culture and my friends can get a break.” My friend would be the housemother for the girls (they don't smell as bad), and I'd take care of the boys (they're less psychological). All my dreams involved seating for one, and I was really quite content with that picture.

Well, one husband and one eight-month old later, I’m not so much alone. I know I’m meant to be married and be a parent in an innate feeling-the-peace-of-God-in-the-situation sort of way. The way it came about – not desiring or demanding it, but rather being pleasantly surprised that these things happened in my life - affirms me that I'm moving in God's will.

And yet my dreams of living incarnationally still reside in those dreams of old: going off to do missions in Africa or Ireland, spending countless hours writing, having a full-time ministry job or a full-time volunteer position. My idea of serving God is in a solitary sense. Perhaps it’s because it’d be less-cumbersome that way, less dynamics to deal with, less people to be accountable to. Perhaps it’s because my family and I tend to be ‘lone wolves’ - we do our own thing. Perhaps it’s because my dreams contained elements I could expect, anticipate, control.

I don’t know how to be incarnational as a wife and mother of an eight month old. I can’t do what I’m used to doing: volunteering, writing, even sitting in silence. I can't get out in the community that I knew of old. But just as Anna’s position in life allowed her to serve God and her community, I have faith that my position will do the same. Doors are going to be opened that I can’t even imagine. I pray that I have the wisdom to walk through those doors rather than peering through and fearing the unknown territory.