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Distractions and Brotherly Love. (62)

I sat down to write nearly an hour ago, but distractions abound in the house on a Saturday night, when siblings are attempting a sleepover and any manner of mice, spiders or splinters might pose a threat to those sleeping on the floor. (Just to clarify, the floor is carpeted, not wood.) Then there’s the slippery slope of compelling Instagram stories, replete with pictures of cute babies and every advertisement possibly targeted at an expectant mama in her third trimester…all gain my attention so much more easily than they would at a more alert and purposed time of day. But here we are, documenting day 38(?) in this 100 day countdown, and the truth of the matter is, I’m a little extra physically spent today and my mind is wandering to so many places.

We mostly stayed home today, which was lovely even on the heels of a homebound week. E and I ventured to the farmer’s market this morning, followed by a visit to one of our favorite shops downtown. I enjoyed using part of a birthday gift to purchase a few new plants for the baby’s room and E enjoyed carrying her rainbow-y bouquet of flowers and a bag of macarons through the market. The intermittent sprinkle of rain and the cloudy, cool morning made for the perfect day to casually wander for a bit before heading home to the boys (and the Matchbox cars and Legos and IKEA furniture building party that evolved into the afternoon). We’re making progress on various things here at home in prep for baby, and all things are one step at a time. The boys’ new room has two of everything, naturally, so J is exercising extreme patience in building two desks, two nightstands, two beds, etc. to get ready for the boys’ transition down the hall. In a good deal of discomfort today, my contribution was presence and moral support (plus being a human incubator, which is worth far more, I suppose). It’s so fun to see things coming together and I’m excited for the boys’ new space. I think it’ll be a great refresh for everyone, and besides, it’ll mean the crib goes up again soon. When we put it away the last time, I wondered whether it was reasonable to keep it here, taking up space. You can bet I’m so thankful that we kept it, and all the more thankful that it’s coming back out of storage once more.

Rainy Saturdays are good for inside projects, and I’m grateful that we could tackle a few today. When these summer weekends hit, it feels hard to balance inside and outside time, so I kind of like it when the weather tells us what to do. Tonight was family movie night and snack-y dinner, and it’s a tradition we all love well. Easy food prep for me, lots of options for everyone’s plates and a low key time of entertainment for our whole crew. A favorite aspect of movie night for me is the moment when C finishes his dinner and comes to find a spot with me on the couch. I love how we’ve figured out a way to curl him just so in my lap around the baby, or to make a nest for him right close so that we’re not missing out on the chance for a snuggle despite of my ever-growing belly. When he’s near, there are always a handful of sweet moments where he feels baby move, gives extra hugs or talks to baby quietly. I can sense his endearment to this little one growing, and I know that he’ll be a doting and protective big brother just as soon as he’s able. He told me tonight that he wished he could just hug the baby forever. That’s so good for a mama’s heart, even if the comment or moment is fleeting.

All in all, today was a good day and this weekend is a much needed weekend. We’re all in recovery mode from a long week, and having low key time together is highly valued and restorative. A few fresh plants and flowers in the house perk things up even more, and the sun coming out after the rain today was a lovely shift in the day. I can feel things slowing down for me a little, even as I want to be able to speed myself up in ways. This exercise of learning stillness continues in my daily walk, and I’m grateful that God pursues me in it in ways I can’t ignore. He is faithful to see us through to where He wants us to go.

I’m re-learning what it is to juggle a few new additions to my plate lately, and baby will be along before we know it, so it’s good that my pace is a forced slowness with a lot of intentionality required. Another pruning season for me, to be sure.

Distracted or otherwise, I’m still here, coming along.

MM

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A Seat at the Table. (63)

“When you arrive, there will be a place for you here.”

Isn’t that something we all crave? To know that we belong, that others have made room for us, that we’re welcome?

I joined a gathering of women last night at church, and that’s exactly what it felt like to walk into the room…there was a place for each one of us. A space where everyone was welcome, and when the room filled to overflowing, more chairs brought out in a hurry to make sure all in attendance could find a seat. This didn’t require a red carpet or lavish decoration. It didn’t call for fancy tables of desserts or servers bringing appetizers around on tiny napkins. All it took was an invitation, some intentionality and a few smiling faces at the door.

Just like the invitation we receive before communion, “Come, for all things are ready,” a table had been prepared and there was a place around it for everyone.

Invitation and welcome feel rarer and rarer these days, when the trajectory of things should be the opposite. In a world where tolerance and acceptance are preached loudly from every rooftop and corner, true invitation feels somehow out of date. The world is begging for recognition, for justice, for equality, but things feel more divisive than ever. We can’t ask to be included and wholly set apart at the same time. It’s confusing, and I don’t think it works.

What I know actually works is when we set down pride, pretense, superiority, labels and we pick up Jesus. Not a watered down version of Jesus the way that works most easily for us, but real, honest, justice-seeking, table-turning, prayerful, boundary-setting, truth-proclaiming, rest-seeking, grace-offering Jesus. And the only way to do that is to put aside agendas and expectations, and to walk into a room open to what God might do–both in us and through others. Last night was an example of this, and it was just about the most refreshing thing I could imagine.

Never mind that it’s been more than a year since we gathered in the same way, without masks covering our faces, without fear standing in the way of hugs, handshakes, conversations shared at close range. That was a huge and beautiful part about this gathering, for sure. But it was so much more than that. It was college-aged women learning from near-centenarians and grandmotherly types gleaning truth from women half their age. It was laughter and tears with brand new faces and friends reunited after so, so long. It was God being invited into a space and generations worshipping Him together and stories being told that linger long after everyone’s headed home. This? This is what’s possible when we extend an invitation with intention and no pretense. And this is what the Body really looks like in a broken world in desperate need of acceptance, belonging and Truth.

When I think about the world our baby is coming into, I could fear so many things. There’s enough heartache and evil to scare anyone away from ever wanting to become a parent at all. But God. And invitation. And the hope and expectation that God will move as He does and make room as He does, and that this child’s life will be filled with purpose, “For such a time as this.”

Oh, little one. I want you to always, always know that when you arrive, there will be a place for you here. You already have a seat at our table. We are making space for you in physical ways, yes, but God is making a place for you in every other sense, too. I believe it with every fiber of who I am, and I trust Him in all that He says He will do. That’s how I know. I know that I know that I know there is a place being prepared for you in a way that I can’t achieve with the perfect nursery or the most beautiful bassinet. This place of yours is being laid forth by the Creator of the Universe, and as the days draw nearer to your arrival, I sense the quickening of His preparations for you.

We all need a place at the table. We all need to belong. And you, Honeybee, you belong in every sense of the word. Your life is already making a difference here. I can’t wait for you to discover exactly how.

May we all experience the love and acceptance we so crave as we seek to find room for ourselves at the table.

MM

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Stretched. (64)

This past week has been stretching: in the physical sense and also the very metaphorical one. I’m noticing my belly button completely disappear at the same time as I’m being challenged to stand on Truth in different aspects of my life. I’m feeling the physical restriction of once-fitting clothing while on the same days being called to boldness and honesty and bravery in new ways. It’s fascinating, the parallels that come in seasons of our lives.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more called to live into my age, experience or faith than I’ve been over these past months and weeks. I’m not one to shy away from sharing what I think when I feel like it really matters, but my convictions are burning up inside these days in a way that compels them to press outward–sometimes I feel like I’m hard to contain, and on the heels of that sentiment, I feel called to set thoughts and convictions free. The phrase, “For such a time as this,” comes to mind so often, and I wonder if I’ll ever stop living and feeling that sentiment so deeply (yet somehow, I suspect I won’t).

I know we don’t know the day or the hour that Jesus returns to earth, but I also know that as humans and believers, we can sense a quickening here that feels more tangible as time goes on. That quickening feels pertinent and worth recognition to me, because I want to be doing the things I’m called to do here on earth in preparation for what is to come. In the same ways that I want to be mentally, physically, spiritually and emotionally prepared for labor as we look toward the birth of our child, I want to be prepared to become more like Christ and to trust God more fully as the earth groans with its own labor pains.

The condition of the world does not always encourage me. In fact, without the hope of the Gospel, it could quickly feel like a very discouraging, despairing, unwelcoming place. I know that some people experience life this way, and it’s not surprising, when there are so many lies flying at us at every turn. When we can’t find our value in Christ alone, where do we place our hope? How do we anticipate a promising future without knowing who owns and holds it for us?

Stretching. It’s stretching to aim at growing in faith and living a life of hope. It’s stretching to put our trust in Jesus and to surrender a control we never actually had in the first place but believe should be ours. It’s stretching to realize that our old ways of doing things no longer fit with who we’re now called to be. In growing this baby, I’m learning so much about myself, but even more about God. I’m stretching from the inside out and the outside in. I’m having to rewrite what I understand about trust, or perhaps better put, I’m having to stand back while God rewrites my understanding of trust and its depth with Him.

I do love a good story, so the parallels here with this season of life we’re living are so helpful to me. So much in life makes better sense when there’s a visual aid. And I don’t think the stretching inside and that outside are mutually exclusive to one another, but rather they’re working together to draw things closer; delivery and deliverance both on the horizon in the direction my heart and body need to go for birth and life to be the end result.

Stretching can be painful, and in my experience these days, it ebbs and flows in waves of discomfort and reassurance, encouragement and challenge. As in preparation for a race, I know it’s of benefit to me to stretch now, and slowly, not hurriedly or all at once. Without this stretching, I can’t get where I’m going or where God’s calling me to move, so I’m once again uncurling my grip on what I can’t control in exchange for hope and trust in the One who knows the path set before me.

Surrender is both good and hard. I’m trying to be here for it and to willingly embrace it along the way.

MM

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Today in Headlines. (65)

For whatever reason, I kept hearing our life in newspaper format as the day went by today. If we were interesting enough to make the paper, I think the front page headlines tomorrow morning would read something like this:

“Wonderful Wednesday Postponed: Family Plans to Resume Original Schedule Next Week”

“Local Family Maxes Out Library Card in Record Haul”

“Tonight’s Menu Shifted to Friday as Local Pizza Establishment Pinch Hits for Dinner”

“Baby Jogger City Mini Deemed Safe and Effective for Use with Children Five and Under”

“Pom Pom and Paper Plate Crafts Entertain Youngsters for Hours”

“Screen Time Limits Removed Until Center for Sane Parents Determines New Guidelines”

“Health Forecast Predicts Overcast Skies for One More Day, Sunnier Outlook Expected Friday”

“Expectant Mom of Three Grateful for Cooler Temps and Gearing Up for 90º Days Ahead”

“Despite All Efforts, Dishes Still Piling Up in Sink Daily”

“Full Pantry Doesn’t Meet Expectations of Students in Grades Two through Five”

“100 Days Posts Getting Trickier for Local Mom: Headlines from Here on Out”

Kidding. Kind of. 35 posts in…1/3 of the way, and my creativity is waning at times. But as I explained to E the other day, to not document these days hardly seems fair after doing so for all of our other babies. And besides, I do so love having a record of these seasons (regardless of whether every day brings a legit blog post or I defer to haikus or headlines to bridge the gap and allow me an earlier bedtime). Both documentation and sleep are important at this stage.

If we did have a newspaper, I think we’d have to call it something really creative to gain readership. I’ll work on that. 😉

Signing off for tonight,

MM

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Monday, Monday. (67)

I don’t think I ever really know what to expect on a Monday, except that there will likely be some kind of re-entry adjustment for our crew. It’s so nice to have weekends, and sometimes, I’m grateful to get back to routines, too. But mostly, I’m just always hoping for a bit of sunshine and the chance to check some items off of my to do list come Monday morning. In those regards, today didn’t disappoint.

We have one kiddo under the weather here at the moment, so our day was mostly couch-centered and close to home. I’m always appreciative of how our other kids bounce when we have an unplanned day at home…all of the stacks of books come out, crafts busy up the kitchen table, requests for snacks abound. Having all of the windows open and a beautiful breeze coming through the house all day was good for what ails, and the time to tackle extra loads of laundry didn’t hurt either. I’d say we made lemonade out of our time and circumstances.

H had a baseball game tonight, and J stayed home with the littlest since he’s still not up for much. Can I just say how grateful I was for a thick piece of plastic and some foam tonight when H took a pitch to the head and walked away without injury? Mondays are often good for some kind of unexpected event or memory. It didn’t hurt that the forced walk turned into a run, or that H’s team won by a few. The cooler temps tonight were also a gift–we’ve really had the full range of weather for baseball this year, and tonight’s was pretty perfect.

J and the kids have been engaged in an ongoing Monopoly game, so C and I had the chance to lay low this evening after baseball while the rest carried their game a bit further down the line. I wish C were feeling better, but I’ll share the couch with my little buddy any day, and it wasn’t a bad rap on this mid-June Monday to watch him sleep peacefully for a while.

Tomorrow holds its own gifts and challenges, no doubt. But I really like Tuesdays as of late, and hopefully this one’s no exception. These days of slow and measured are ones I’ll miss when they’re gone. Monday or any day of the week, it’s good to be with my people and to be doing life together.

Grateful,

MM