We need to lean on each other

and sometimes that's awkwardly uncomfortable

After three weeks in a hotel (from a pipe bursting and our ceiling falling down), we came back to our newly renovated apartment! I was singing all day with anticipation of being home. But when we walked into the apartment it still smelled strongly of paint fumes. Alas, we couldn’t keep our baby there. I knocked on the neighbor’s door and asked if I could stay with Lucy there until we figured out what to do. I took Lucy to a friend’s house that night while Mike aired the apartment out.

For those 24 hours, I felt vulnerable. Babies are not quiet. It was awkward trying to soothe a screaming baby while my neighbor (who we just met) tried to do her homework. It was awkward to show up unannounced to my friends’ house and ask if I could keep them up all night with baby cries. And in the quick process of figuring out what to do, I forgot some crucial items. I had to ask for what we needed. I had to be fed. I had to feed my baby. My friends and neighbors are incredibly hospitable and gracious and were more than willing to help. They loved us well. But it still felt vulnerable to admit I needed a whole community to keep my baby safe that night.

This kind of vulnerability is not just an inconvenience that we have to put up with under unique circumstances. It’s actually not optional. Vulnerable interdependence is a key part of our thriving and is a part of how we are made in the image of God. Following Jesus means leaning upon one another, learning to love and be loved (Philippians 2).

A big part of God’s character is his willingness to make himself vulnerable to his creation. I see his vulnerability in John 21. After his best friend and closest disciple betrays him, he has the courage to tell Peter to “feed his sheep.” Jesus chooses to trust Peter, his friend who let him down, with who is most important to him, his “sheep.”

Lucy wasn’t feeling well the other day and as I rocked her I said over and over, “I love you, I love you, I love you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” As I did, I felt God saying to me that he feels that same way towards me. Through the pain of broken trust, I snarkily but genuinely responded, “Well, God, since you love me, take care of my baby.”

Trust is vulnerable, especially after trust has been broken, and especially when it involves who is most precious to you. But this is the way of Jesus: choosing the messy path of vulnerable interdependence upon each other. This is the way of love. I think it’s the only way.

P.S. After the paint fumes went away, I love our new place! It’s beautiful and the baby room with all its memories of Julia is still largely in tact. I’m so grateful.