It’s late on Sunday night, and I sat down to read a few of my cyber-gals’ blogs. In succession, I read three ladies who missed the message this morning on account of Baby-who-won’t-cooperate (here, here, and here). I feel their pain. Not because I missed church on this particular Easter, but because I’ve missed many a’ Sunday on account of motherhood.

I remember when my husband was a youth pastor back when we had only a baby and a toddler. I missed so many Sundays that upon my return, a recent newcomer welcomed me to the church. I could only reply intelligently, “Uh, I go here.”

Now, the three ladies I mentioned took the occasion with grace. I wish I could say that I always did.

It plays on a woman’s mind when she’s been housebound with sickies the whole week, and she puts her on-the-mend children to bed Saturday night with excitement that “tomorrow is only a day away.” In only a short time, she will engage in the awe-filled, transcendent act of…

Seeing bigger humans.

Then, Toddler throws up on the way out the door. They never throw up first thing in the bathroom. They wait until they’re in their Sunday best, after you’ve already done everyone’s pigtails, and while standing on light-colored carpet– even though your house is mostly hardwood floors.

I know the drill.

Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus,who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. (Philippians 2:5-8)

Somehow we must search for the sacred among the simple. This is the Lord’s will for a mother’s life. Because of our example, Jesus Christ, we can serve our sick little ones with grace. Because He obeyed, we can too. Because He triumphed death, we have hope that our “Day of Small Things” is not in vain.

That is the message. I’m trying not to miss it.