So there's this concept in Christianity called the Body of Christ--Paul used it to describe the church:
"For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. ...Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many." 1 Corinthians 12:12
There are so many ways this passage gets lived out in the Christian faith--when denominations gather together to worship at their annual conferences, synods, and assemblies; when we join with other congregations to pray about a particular situation; when we individually stand up for justice, peace, love, or hope and our collective stands make a powerful witness to God's presence in the world.
But lately, for me, the Body of Christ has boobs.
Now granted, most of these mamas-to-the-rescue moments weren't about spiritual or even existential crises. But Paul writes that the function of the Body isn't just to share individual spiritual gifts with one another (although that's probably the most familiar part of the passage--some have the gift of preaching, some the gift of prophesying, some teaching, some giving, etc. etc.). It's also, and I think most importantly, to bear one another's burdens and share one another's joys: "God has so arranged the body...that...the members may have the same care for one another. If one member suffers, all suffer together with it; if one member is honored, all rejoice together with it." (1 Cor. 12:24-26)
I love that God weaves Him/Herself so intimately into our daily lives that we can feel supported and upheld by the Divine presence even (especially?) outside our faith communities, even apart from our friendships with faith-based people. I have been deeply inspired by the absolutely heart-shattering delight Little Bit's atheist auntie displays every time she sees LB's face*, and unexpectedly buoyed up when perfect strangers hold the door while I try to carry a bajillion things plus my squirming child. Even the brilliant display of stars peeping down at me and the throb of the cicadas serenading at 1am the other night when I resorted to running out the door barefoot to stroll Little Bit until she stopped screaming (oh the joys of teething) reminded me of God's providential care for us parents struggling to do our job halfway decently.
I'm perhaps more of a universalist than most, but I often feel like the Body is everywhere and in everything, waiting to clue me in to all the ways we're not alone in this (you know, this parenting thing, for sure--but also this life thing). So of course, the Body has boobs, and a pot belly, and a toupee, and really crazy tattoos...and hopefully I can remember that I am never so bogged down in my own burdens (or blinded by my own joys) that I'm incapable of doing my own bit to uphold someone else. Because I like to think that one small part of the Body of Christ has long blond hair and preternaturally skinny feet and a big smile and, at the moment, milk-filled boobs.
*I'm not an auntie yet (and obviously not an uncle) but it appears there's this special thing that happens where your sister or brother just completely melts when they meet their niece/nephew? Like in a way that makes you wonder if you even love your kid as much as they do? (Or maybe it just seems like that because you have to change the diapers and do the midnight feeds and they only get the fun parts.)