For me, Hutchmoot last year was emotional. Every talk felt like a one-two punch. But in a good way. A lip trembling, tears welling up, lump-in-the-throat kind of way. Ideas about truth, grace, love, beauty, and theological meaning knocked me around all weekend. God was working on me.

A particularly intense moment came in the middle of a talk by Andrew and Ron on George MacDonald, about the sense of wonder in children and the excitement they have for the mystery of the world. Andrew said that children allow us to stay wide-eyed, they help us be creative because they see magic in the mundane.

I thought of my daughter.

And with that, I tumbled over and into the rabbit hole, following thought after thought. I heard her stories, her laughter, and I saw the joy in her face when a new idea dawns on her. But I also remembered how hard motherhood had been for me so far. How, even though Sophie was my treasure, being a parent had been the most depleting experience of my life. I tried to turn back to the talk, to tune in, but not before the last thought, in a whisper; a baby. My stomach tightened. A baby? Really, God? I can’t handle more than one child. I have nothing else to give. I am already all tapped out.

But then my stomach released. A baby. Another child with which to share the wonder and mystery. And then another thought, “All that God asks for, He provides.” God was working on me.

His name is Jack, like our hero, Lewis, and he is four months old. He was born nine months after Hutchmoot 2010.

So, it was with fear and trembling that I boarded the plane to Nashville this year. Another word from the Lord and I’d have another nine months of joint pain, high blood pressure, and morning sickness.

Of course, I had nothing to fear. Even if I did hear the nudge for another baby, which I didn’t. (Exhale. Relief). This year I laughed. My cheeks hurt from laughing. I felt light and free of worry. I took in the words, the songs, the stories. I let the ideas wash over me with thankfulness and wonder. My thoughts on the weekend were elusive. I took so much into my head and really hadn’t processed much. I was touched by many moments, but the weight of emotion hadn’t hit me.

Then on Sunday morning, I saw Father Thomas lean down to kiss the top of his daughter’s head. He stood before her in his robes, sharing the most important nourishment, communicating the most profound act of grace that one can give to another: the Body and Blood of Christ. My eyes burned and the tears spilled over.

I thought of my daughter.

I thought of my son.

I thought about my Father in Heaven who loves me like I love Sophie and Jack, only so much better. I knew the reason I was in Nashville, at Hutchmoot, in that service. Last year I became a parent again. This year I will become a better parent. I will give my best to my children, because they deserve nothing less. Our Father, in His wisdom and mercy, teaches us how to live year after year.

I thought about how I could explain to Sophie what Mommy and Daddy had to do that was so important it took them away for four days.

This is what I came up with: I talked to people I never met in an easy way, like talking to our family. We all got to sing songs and tell stories and make drawings that made our hearts happy. We ate colorful food that made our bodies feel good. We laughed and we played. We thanked God for giving us everything we need to live, like love and adventures. And I asked God to help me be a better Mommy to you.

See you next year, friends.

{ 6 comments }