You Are Like Me

I am a stay at home mom. Talk about losing your audience.

Thank you, universe, for assigning that anticlimactic title to the super human tasks I perform each day.

The point is that we, my little one and I, are home a lot, so, naturally, when she meets other babies, a ritual of excitement follows. And it goes more or less like this:


1. Run/wobble as fast as her little legs can go in order to make a bee line for that tiny person across the way.

2. Stop no less than 1 inch from the other baby’s face.

3. Stare for sooooo long.

4. Shake fists and yell.

5. Laugh uncontrollably.

6. Try to kiss, grab, hug in some form or fashion.

7. Chase down the frightened child with more squealing and laughing.


It happens every time without fail. It happened tonight, in fact. We were at my husband’s softball game and there she went.

And while I wrangled her and attempted to compensate for her social “newness” once again with “Oh, I’m so sorry” and “Marin, be gentle;” I was really secretly having a blast watching the whole thing unfold.

I take joy in her joy. I take joy in her interactions with others.

I mean, it’s sweet when you think about it. These little ones spot each other like two aliens on a planet full of grown ups, when all of a sudden, “Hey, you are like me.” Magnets.

I talked with the little girl’s mom while Marin smothered her daughter. And I can’t help but compare the dynamics of the two interactions.

I filtered what I said.

I stayed in my own personal space.

I had internal dialogue with my insecurities.

I didn’t show any unruly amount of excitement for the conversation at hand; even though, inside I was really grateful for conversation with another mama. It is nice to know that “Hey, you are like me.”

The difference between my wee one’s approach and mine is stark, as they probably should be. I mean social graces are there for a reason. But as I walked Marin back to watch her dad at bat, I was hit by this truth:

We are made for community, connectedness. It’s part of our design. The mouths of babes proclaimed it at a softball game.

A year at home, even for noble and wonderful pursuits in family, can get a heart feeling like a social desert. It can lead to feeling isolated and internal.

To my knowledge, Jesus prayed out loud for me once in the New Testament. In John, chapter seventeen, he prayed for his disciples, for future believers, for you and me. He prayed, “I will remain in the world no longer, but they are still in the world, and I am coming to you. Holy Father, protect them by the power of your name–the name you gave me–so that they may be one as we are one.” I can’t help but notice his urgency, his fervency. To be a part of the church must be important, even on the days I’m not missing it (maybe especially then).

To desire closeness with others is part of our design.

And it isn’t always easy. It takes effort and breaking through comfort zones, meeting new people when the demands of a new season of life have changed your appearance, your sleep routine or your priorities. I can’t help but think it is difficult because it is important. It seems pretty clear to me that if God calls for it, then evil despises it and begins devising false families, dark communities, and empty walls in his attempt to “steal, kill, and destroy” it.

So it goes, when the Holy Spirit pleads for something, Death gets busy devising a plan to foil it.

Fears of failure creep in. Walls of unforgiveness and a taunting for a secret life start whispering, all in order to wreck that one fervent prayer to become a part of something life-giving. Jesus came that we may have LIFE.

I can sense the growing need for community in my own heart. These are uncharted waters, a delicate road of investing in the church inside my home and the church outside of it. How we find our way to being connected isn’t always cut and dry. But what I do know is that everyone needs it and that if we ask, HE will answer. He will come, and most likely get all up in our personal space (but in a good way).

Cheers, friend.


Hi, I’m Megan.  I’m a follower of Jesus, wife to a quarter-rican, mama to a little beauty, former eighth grade teacher, and an all around life enthusiast. Learn more at



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