Sadie’s New House
Today, it finally arrived: the day we got to take home our little angel! I began the arduous process of ferrying the assortment of luggage, equipment, clothing, gifts, flowers, balloons, paperwork, and the full family of pillows to our little car… which by the way, was already equipped with car seat (checked by a police officer friend of ours, mind you), pull-down retractable window shades, little light-up kick game for the baby (even though she will not be able to reach it for like four months), and mirror in the back to monitor baby—whew! I am sure Sadie would have been very disappointed in us if we were not so well-prepared.
The process of being discharged from a hospital is never simple. Four hours, but here is the gist: Wait for the obstetrician. Wait for the pediatrician. Wait for the nurse. Oh no, shift change… wait for the new nurse. Fill out this form. Sign this one. Press hard, you’re making six copies! Here’s your prescription–and Laura, here’s yours too. Here’s a list of things you need to do for Sadie everyday—you might want to sit down for this. Alright, now we’re going to wheel Laura and Sadie down to the front entrance. You–yeah you with gorilla-like look on his face–go get the car!
Car! Right, got it. My coffee-driven drunken stupor veers me towards the elevators. Down button–check. Wait to reach bottom floor. Focus! Just because I’m not walking, I must not dose off. Step off of elevator. Walk towards door–automatic door. Does it swing out or in? It is a slow door and answering incorrectly could have a disastrous and embarrassing outcome. Doors safely navigated. Cross street while remaining uninjured. Unlock car. Roll down windows. Drive around the block with air on full blast to cool off interior. Pull up to door. Jump out of car. Snap car seat into place. Help Laura into the back seat where she can keep an eye on the little one. Check.
Next comes a very surreal moment in time: pulling out into traffic with your whole new family in the car together for the first time. Driving Ms. Sadie. I wait just a little longer at the stop sign. I look a few extra times before turning. I definitely go slower. The car isn’t just mine anymore; it’s Sadie’s too.
As I journey home, I realize that though sound asleep in the car seat, Sadie has just hit the mother lode! She is about to be carried into a house that for at least the next eighteen years, she can call “her” home (unless we move, but you get the point). She did not build it. She has never written a check for the mortgage. She has never mowed the grass, taken out the trash, done the dishes, taken our dog Brutus outside to go potty, or sat around lamenting the fact that drywall tape is coming loose on the ceiling.
She has never done one solitary thing to contribute; yet on this day, it is all hers!
When we pull up, some amazing friends from church have lined the driveway with plastic pink flamingoes… joining in the celebration of Sadiefest.
When we walk in the door, her room is already prepared—custom-made with painstaking craftsmanship by her mommy and daddy—painted and caulked with the finest of detail. Baskets of bibs, boppies, and baby books line the closet beneath the full wardrobe hanging on display like a princess’s east wing of a royal castle. Every detail preconceived and pre-made with her needs especially in mind as if she has already slept there.
Her room. Our work.
The kitchen cabinets have all already been reorganized and stocked with every sort of bottle, sippy cup, liner, and accessory that Target has to offer.
Her stuff. Our purchase.
A bonus room closet full of every swing, stroller, and swanky new contraption in existence—much of it that will wait months or years until she can be old enough to use it.
Her accessories. Our assembly.
It is all hers! You know why? Because she is all mine.
Now her membership in this family will require her to contribute once the appropriate age is reached; but never to earn a home. No, this house has been hers since the moment we began to dream about her arrival. At our dining room table, a little highchair has been strapped to one of our existing seats for months now. Literally, Sadie has already been seated where we sit.
Ephesians 2: 6-7 (NLT) is about being pre-seated where you belong, even if you are not yet sitting there. “For he raised us from the dead along with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms because we are united with Christ Jesus. So God can point to us in all future ages as examples of the incredible wealth of his grace and kindness toward us, as shown in all he has done for us who are united with Christ Jesus.”
The Bible tells us we have literally been seated in “heavenly realms” because we are united with Jesus. That means we have hit the motherload… well, only if we have moved in with Jesus. Love, joy, peace, hope, heaven, purpose, contentment—all the things Jesus possesses—that’s right, it is all ours now too. This does not necessarily mean we are able to take hold of everything in its fullness at present—Sadie’s not quite ready for her highchair. But nevertheless, it is hers. And nevertheless, it is ours too.
Grace is ours, so we should live like we have it. Not foolishly. Not arrogantly. No, rather like we live in the house of our Father, humbly being a part of his family. Sharing his name. Submitting to his Fatherhood in our lives. Living lifestyles reflective of our bloodline. That blood purchased this place for us, so maybe we should start living there.
His grace. Our gain.
