In the last nine months, and even the nine months before that, my ministry has changed dramatically. Before I was pregnant, I poured all of myself- my time, my energy, my life- into camp- weekend retreats, summer camp, and anything in between that needed to be done.
Now, I have a little person depending on me to get him his food, naps, baths, diaper changes, and everything else on a schedule that keeps him secure and happy. I'm still able to help out at camp, working in the office, and assisting with the kitchen during retreats, but not nearly as faithfully as I was once able to.
Tonight, for example, I sat feeding little Z his chicken/squash/cereal delight while everyone else ran around frantically plating brownies, cooking pizzas, and setting out salad bar items. And I regretted not being able to do as much as I'd like to help out.
But as I sat there, being covered in a fine mist of cereal and squash, I realized that my most important ministry of all is to this two-foot-tall little fountain of pureed food (and his daddy). When my two ministries cooperate, and I can wear Z on my back while serving pizza for dinner, that's great. But when these worlds collide, Z has to come first. And I pray that I will never feel guilty or regretful about that.