It was a well-worn pattern that had been going on for a couple of weeks. Jim took another set of halting steps. One step. Two step. Three-ish step and plop! His fourteen month bottom hit the floor and, in a flash, he was on all fours tearing towards the kitchen.
The face of EA’s mom beamed with delight. Well, at least until she noticed her daughter and son-in-law respond to their firstborn’s steps in a less-than-enthusiastic way.
"Why aren’t you two more excited?" she asked.
"I blame society."
There’s always a slight bit of danger when I say something without putting it through the proper channel of filters, but it often hits a little closer to the truth too. Thankfully, I wasn’t in the danger zone this time. And though I don’t legitimately blame society, my expectations for the moment where Jim began walking were somewhere south of reality.
The moment. That was the thing. I imagine that some babies have this glorious moment in which, without warning, they stand up and take that one small step for toddler, one giant leap for toddler kind. The parents grab the camera and you find yourself in the middle of this great milestone: the first steps.
But EA and I have discovered with Jim that things are a lot more organic and gradual. He’ll take some steps and plop down. He’ll stand on his own for awhile. He’ll move from one piece of furniture to the other. He has the tools. The band is all together, it just hasn’t figured out how to jam to “Walk On” or “Walk This Way” or the theme to Walker, Texas Ranger (puns everywhere!).
I don’t want you to misunderstand. Each time Jim stands up, I hold my breath. Because, eventually, he’s going to put it all together and walk (though I’m still trying to figure out what officially designates “walking”). But I’m also learning that there is a lot that goes on in the run-up to these great milestones. They don’t just happen out of thin air.
It reminds me again and again that the same is true about life. We live in a world where we’re told the really big stuff comes out of nowhere and boom! It happens. People fall in love. An artist finds his or her muse. Jesus completely takes over a kid’s life.
That’s probably because when these big things happen, it is so earth-shatteringly huge that we get disoriented. The wonderful trauma that occurs when things click almost make us forget what happened up to that point.
And that’s fine. But I think it is important to retrieve those memories because life in reality is gradual and organic. What led to you falling in love? How was the struggle as you tried to figure out how to write, compose, or paint that wonderful work? What were the steps that led up to that life-changing encounter with God? Because if I just live milestone to milestone, what happens when I find myself in the 99% of life that isn’t incredible things happening?
If we don’t retrieve those memories, if we don’t recall the baby steps that lead up to those moments, we’ll find ourselves disenchanted. We’ll trick ourselves into thinking it is all about the moment instead of the day-to-day pursuit of love, art, faith. And that’s how we end up with broken relationships, repetitive art, and superficial Christians.
If I truly want to move forward in my relationship with God, I need to remember that maturing in faith does not happen out of thin air. It is a daily, inch-by-inch process in which it will often seem like nothing significant is happening yet so much is actually happening.
I must pay careful attention to that step by step progression in my relationships, my art (that sounds terribly pretentious, we’ll call it…) work, and my faith. Just like Jim - though he is totally unaware of it - is being faithful as he inches, stands, and steps his way to joining the rest of us bipeds.
One day, that band is going to cut loose and it’s going to be awesome.