Milk and Solid Food

"I fed you with milk, not solid food, for you were not ready for solid food. Even now you are still not ready". 1 Corinthians 3:2

Oh St Paul you do crack me up. This week, what is occupying my brain can be broken down as follows:
1.24% - I wonder if overt evangelism is necessary for mission?
2.77% - I wonder what the Body of Christ would look like if it truly acknowledged itself as broken?
10.48% - What shall I have for tea tonight?
85.51% - What should Arthur have for tea tonight?

As I sit in Morning Prayer I try and push all these thoughts out of my mind and focus on what I'm meant to be focusing on. And then the Lectionary comes up with this little gem.

Given his opinion on marriage, I'm assuming St Paul never actually weaned a baby. He is therefore to be applauded for getting so succinctly to the root of the weaning problem - WHAT oh WHAT are you ready for?

You see, the question 'What should Arthur have for tea tonight?' is simply the headline. There are a vast, vast number of secondary questions including, but not restricted to...

Should I make my own puree or should I buy it? Was spending £12 on an electric blender a sensible purchase? How many spoonfuls of food can I feed him? Does flapping arms/crying between each mouthful/saying "ah-boo!" in a loud and enthusiastic tone mean he likes it or not? When do I start to give him less milk, and how much less? Can a baby live by butternut squash alone? What of meat and dairy products? Would he like a drink of water with his meal? Am I a bad parent if small child is not offered a range of imaginative, homemade, organic meals? How long does asparagus keep? Is his nappy meant to be that colour? Does it matter if lunch and dinner are at a different time every day? How on earth does a baby learn to use a sippy cup? Can I puree a Tesco value horseburger?

These and many other questions spin round my head as I'm trying to concentrate on what I'm meant to be concentrating on. Dissertations and experiential projects and the whole thorny issue of my ordination in just over five months.

Oh, to go back to just feeding him milk! Those were the days weren't they? Ok, me and Mr A were obsessing over fluid intake and catheter frequency/volumes but once I'd got past the sad fact that the neuropathic bladder meant unlimited breast milk was off the agenda, at least there was no choice of meal. "A bottle of milk, sir?" "Don't mind if I do..."

Possibly I've unwittingly stumbled into a theological reflection, or possibly not (I'm still not entirely sure what theological reflection is). Probably what St Paul is trying to say is that introducing solid food to a 5-month-old is flippin' impossible. Well, what he's actually saying is that grasping the message of the gospel when you're engrossed in worldly things is flippin' impossible, but I decided to take the former reading this morning.

But we press on, Mr A and I. And while, to use the language of St Paul, the 'worldly' thing to do might be to slip quietly back to milk (or give him butternut squash for every solid meal. He loves butternut squash) we will press boldly on, with a spoon in one hand and, in the other, a world of exciting liquified flavours just waiting to be discovered. Arthur, we're in this for the long run. And even though you insist on weeping through mouthfuls of lovingly-home-pureed carrot and swede two days running, we will not be disheartened, oh no. The remaining swede has been frozen, to reappear at a time of our choosing. A time which you do not know. A time which not even Mr A knows. Only Mummy knows. But the swede will come back. Oh yes, Arthur, it will come back.

Swede. Carrot. Ordination. The future's bright. The future's orange.