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The Tonight Show, Starring…our Eldest Two. (46)

“Mama, I can’t sleep,” comes her voice from the top of the stairs. Tonight at bedtime, I didn’t have it in me to climb the stairs and tuck babies in, so we said our goodnights down here and dad did the tucking. Now, I don’t have the heart to send our girlie back up to bed, so I invite her to snuggle on the couch for a few minutes instead. I tell her she can help me think up what I’ll say in tonight’s post, and this has her intrigued. Then I remind her that once, long ago, she wrote a letter to her little brother before he was born. “Maybe you could do that again?” I suggest. She loves the idea, but first she wants to read the original letter, so we begin the exercise of going back a thousand posts to find it.

Before we get to the aforementioned letter, we find all kinds of other treasures…stories about her third birthday, her first ballet class of that season nearly five years ago, anecdotes about how she and her brother interacted in those days and how everyone was adjusting to the idea of a new baby coming along. As if on cue, I see a shadow in the stairwell and big brother makes his way down the stairs, too. Upon invitation, he joins us here on the couch. Now we’re all reading old posts together–laughing and remembering and having a moment I didn’t plan and couldn’t script. These growing babies of mine? They didn’t get the best version of me today, and yet somehow in God’s infinite grace, here He is providing a do-over of sorts at 10:30pm. I know this is His doing, because an hour ago I had zero capacity left for parenting. Now, suddenly, there’s plenty of space in my heart and body to take this time at this hour. Maybe the kids should be in bed, yes, but we all sleep better when our hearts are at peace, don’t we?

It’s probably a half and hour that we take to relish old words, old stories. But they’re here for the taking, and goodness, that’s my “why” poured out in front of me allll over again. This documenting of days that’s four times in the making by now? Sometimes I wish I weren’t so committed to my commitments. And yet. Would I trade any of this for the world? You can bet not. When I started writing to our babies ten and a half years ago, it was because I knew I’d want to be able to share memories with them someday that I’d otherwise forget. I guess I imagined them reading these “love notes” someday as adults–maybe when they’re each off to get married or have children of their own. But tonight? Tonight this labor of love is serving us all much earlier than expected. She needs to hear my reflections of who she is and how much she’s adored. He needs to read about how much I enjoyed our date out to the bookstore together way back when…how much I enjoy him. These memories can’t stay tucked away forever, and especially not tonight. Suddenly there’s a balm covering over the contents of the day that were less than stellar. Milk and honey when even just manna would have been a gift.

When our storytelling is over, I follow our eldest two upstairs because one asks for tucking in and I can tell that the other would benefit from a tuck in, too. At one end of the hall, it turns out there are shadows to slay and words to pray before peacefulness covers sleep tonight. Down the way, a simple blanket, a “Sleep well. I love you,” and the light on does the trick. We could’ve missed it all, but instead, a nudge in my heart and some dusty old posts have something else in mind. I don’t understand this goodness, but I’ll embrace it.

There’s so much I have to learn yet in this life and in this thing called motherhood. I know it’s never perfect and I know that my expectations can be too much. But I’ve also seen God show up in ways that I can’t explain outside of His being a nurturing, generous Father who meets our needs and then lavishes on us some more. Tonight as I feel emptied out, He fills me up again. In the words of a song I love, “I don’t deserve. I couldn’t earn it. Still He gives himself away. Oh the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God.”

It turns out our babies did write this post for me tonight. Or God did, but so clearly through them. I’m better for it, and I hope that they are somehow, too.

MM

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Livin’ on a Prayer. (50)

If I haven’t titled post #50 in a 100 day countdown, “Livin’ on a Prayer” before now, I’m really not sure why. That seems like low hanging fruit, right? It’s so accurate for where things are right now on multiple levels. I don’t know for fact that I’m halfway through the last 100 days to baby, but if I were a betting pregnant woman…

I decided this week that I’m reclaiming summer after a slow start out the gate for our crew. Today is July 1st (would be my grandparents 71st anniversary, today, FWIW), and the start of July plus 50 or so days to baby feels like the right time to be celebratory and intentional and to put a stake in the ground. Summer, commence! I want to do all of the summertime things we can possibly enjoy without driving ourselves to the brink of exhaustion or turning it into a to-do list instead of a fun pursuit.

This morning, we got up and took ourselves to the beach about a half hour away. I knew a rocky beach would add extra entertainment vs. the sandy beaches we usually frequent, and my instinct proved profitable. Between the gazillion rocks to stack, carry, build with, move, and collect, the awesome tide pools left by days of rain and water filling in from the lake, and the family of similarly-aged kiddos who built dams and channel systems with our crew, we had a solid two hours of whine-free playtime in my happiest place. It was windy, but the sun was shining and the sky was blue, I managed to read a few chapters of a fiction book due back soon to the library, and it FELT LIKE SUMMER, Amen! We all needed it. We’ll need more of it. And we’re going after it. 50 days or so to live life to the full with our three while this baby swims around tucked inside…it’ll be balm to all of our souls if we can sprinkle these kinds of memories throughout the next number of weeks. You can bet we’ll try!

If I didn’t feel so compelled to make it count, I know we could spend the entire summer this way: sleep-in mornings for the kids, stacks of books piling up in the living room–blankets and pillows and cozy straight on through lunchtime, and me wandering around the house trying to make progress on a million little things I could just go crazy over until it’s too late to tackle any of them any more. The sun would shine and the days would be the temperature we all dream about the whole rest of the year, and we’d miss it all as it went by outside the front door. I’m all about some cozy, sleep-in mornings in summertime, but the reward is pretty great for pursuing the mini-adventure, too. This week, I’m so grateful for three days so far of getting up and out and onto something a bit distanced from home. We’ve all benefitted from the change of scenery and the re-discovery that there’s a world out there waiting for us to soak it in. And while I’m experiencing some kind of second wind wave of energy this pregnancy that I didn’t really expect would come, you can bet I want to capitalize on the gift that it is to be out living life with our kiddos. Grace, really. It’s all grace. And I’m beyond thankful for it and feeling healthier because of it.

Here’s to “half way there” and all of the prayers it takes to keep moving forward. The joy of the Lord really is our strength!

MM

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Growth Days. (51)

There are days when I feel I’ve grown more than others, and today was one of those days. I don’t mean that my belly feels bigger, but that a number of things happened today from a spiritual/mental/emotional standpoint that feel like good strides. I always love this, and I try to fully embrace it, because it’s not an every day thing and not something I want to miss noticing. It’s more an acknowledgement of my gratitude for it that I want to articulate…I just feel better when I’m making progress on the things that matter, and I recognize that this isn’t of my own doing, but rather something that requires my participation. We have to be willing to accept it in order to grow in certain areas, right?

When I think about my garden plot in life, I want to till rich soil that’s good for planting. I want to clear out weeds and be a hospitable environment for seeds to take root. I want to retain moisture and be open to sunshine and to cultivate progress that bears fruit. We know that this is daily work, and sometimes I get out to tend the garden more responsibly, while other days I might ignore it or simply not find time to address it in the midst of life’s details. That said, I never want to abandon the work that’s already done. Nurturing what’s growing really matters to me–in every area of life.

Today, I had an hour to spend with someone in self-reflection. It was cathartic and clarifying and helpful. Later, I sat with another friend just sharing about life and catching up on things, which is always good for reviewing what’s happening around me (and how I’m feeling about it). I had a good bit of time in the car and plugged into a podcast that built on things I’d shared with others earlier in the day. This felt awfully intentional and timely on God’s part, and it was also kind. I needed some clarity on a few things, and the events of the day allowed room for processing and leaning into where He has me right now. It was the encouraging space I needed after a day of soul searching and getting really real with myself about some feelings yesterday. I feel like it all just piggy backs in a way that helps me to see God’s hand in growing and stretching me right now. I am so grateful for that grace. He doesn’t have to show me, but in answered prayers, He demonstrates His attention to detail and also His knowing how much those details matter to me.

I don’t know what the day holds tomorrow. It doesn’t necessarily matter. I’d love for it to be a great and encouraging day, and I’d love the chance to keep building on what God did in my heart today. I know I’m not promised that. But I’m hopeful that this self-reflecting can keep coming. In a space when I feel so attuned to the world around me, I want to be soaking up all of the helpful parts and using them to be the fullest and most authentic version of myself that I can. I need God’s help with that, and He has already given the go-ahead on pursuing it, so I’m feeling ready to dig in.

Tomorrow is the halfway point through this exercise of documenting the last 100-ish days of baby’s journey here. I can hardly believe it, and you’d better believe I want to savor these and the remainder for all they’re worth. There’s too much good in the process to fall asleep on it in this season. Would you please continue to pray that I remain open and available to all God wants to do through this growing phase? And that He would continue to cover and keep this baby safe and well, and mama alongside? In the pursuit of what is good, and in the celebration of life, I know the the enemy wouldn’t have things this way. The Lord of Heaven’s Armies is needed and invited here, so that God has room to do all that He’ll do.

Humbled and grateful, daily.

MM

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I’ve Got a Feeling. (52)

Do you ever walk through a moment or experience and feel like you’re attuned to every little thing? As if all of the details were right in front of you and you could reach out and grasp every element of what’s happening? I’m taking a shot at describing the heightened sense of awareness I feel in just about every way lately, though I probably can’t make total sense of it in words.

I can’t decide if this is just some new level of pregnant mama spider sense, but I don’t remember feeling exactly this way ever before. My sense of wonder is like nothing I’ve experienced. I’m in awe over every detail of creation–every flower, every sky, every little bird in the yard. The rain. A new bug. Our children at every turn. I can’t take enough pictures. Everything about this growing belly amazes me, and I find myself wanting to remember every second of sweetness that happens in a day.

I feel oddly discerning about textures, colors, lighting, sound. I fixate on things that wouldn’t have gotten my attention before, to the detriment of other things that could probably really use it. Nesting is in full force, and it has been…for ages. I kind of remember that being a phase before, but this time around, it feels like it’s been my entire pregnancy. I want things settled. I anticipate tasks I’d like to accomplish long before their deadline. (Except writing here, which I feel married to tackling in real time each day.) A caveat of all of this is that I can see and know how I want something to be or to turn out, but I can’t muster enough time or energy to make it all happen to meet my vision. This season has been a lesson in expectation management over and over. Revisions feel necessary just about every five minutes.

On the flip side of my heightened sensitivity to aesthetics, sound (especially sound), order and creation, I have little appetite for any specific foods and a more limited capacity to manage frustrations (or maybe more accurately, pet peeves). When everyone is talking all at once, there’s clutter from little ones in any (every!) space, someone in the lane next to me is driving down the road looking at their phone, people are chewing ice in the same room or another day has gone by without me tackling a task that’s weighing heavily on my mind, I struggle not to speak up (or at least not to feel a little bit of a skin crawl as I try to push feelings back down). My kiddos know this full well and they could attest. I have so much more bandwidth for awe and beauty these days–something we celebrate together daily. I also have so much less capacity for irritations (please, please stop leaving your things under the couch!) and I know H, E and C are feeling that just as much.

I wish I knew what to do with all of the feelings. I’m sure someone on the outside looking in could easily just chalk it all up to hormones, and maybe that’s right. But this feels more nuanced than that. In a way, it’s like a pregnancy super power on some levels and a real challenge on others. I’m kind of curious to see whether it ebbs and flows as I get nearer to the end of carrying this babe, if it’s exclusive to this pregnancy, or if it’s something I’ll carry with me into this new phase of motherhood with four littles at home. I want to make the best of it, which requires some silver lining focus and honing in on all of the beauty while also intentionally tempering my frustrations. Whether I can do both with some success in these next few weeks remains to be seen, but I’ll surely try.

Even though we’ve been down this road before, this time around continually feels like new territory–always showing, always teaching, always inviting me into new spaces of reliance, dependence and trust. I hope I can honor the process while I’m in it and long after.

MM

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It’s Not Easy Being Green. (54)

After an incredibly dry spring and what seemed like forever without any significant rain, our area has had days of storms and downpours this past week. I’d read that a very dry summer was predicted, but I didn’t imagine it shaping up to be so much that way until the hotter months…July and August, mostly. Instead, keeping plants alive was proving to be difficult, especially as we started up our garden around Memorial Day. Three of us routinely took turns watering the plants several times a day, our sprinklers were on like clockwork and it still felt like there might be no hope of things greening up (or staying viable) as we headed closer to mid-summer. Now we’re still not quite there, and everything has had as much water as anyone could ask for and then some. Our plants are all as healthy as can be and the grass looks happy. I know that the amount of rain we’ve gotten hasn’t been good for everyone everywhere, but it’s just amazing to me how much can change in a few days time.

Do you ever feel so incredibly parched, aching for refreshment and in need of life-giving sustenance? I think we all have moments or seasons where we’re like the grass and flowers, wilting and weathered under the baking sun day after day, begging for rain. And I know it doesn’t always come. It’s not every time that what we need or ask for is granted to us. But when it does come, it’s more than manna to our dried out, weary selves–it’s like milk and honey, above and beyond the basics we need, offering blessing and a sense of hope for what’s next.

As the rain poured down day after day this past week, it felt like promise springing up for the parched areas of life in this segment of time. Every time I looked out to see rain starting again as a sprinkle over the lake, mounting into a shower or storm or downpour, I couldn’t help but think it was like God saying, “I see you. I see you again. I’m always on time, never late. I haven’t forgotten. This all matters to me, too.”

In the rainy mornings, the birds outside our window sounded so cheerful, grateful. It was like the whole earth around us was celebrating a feast. Even this morning, when the last of the major forecasted storms had all passed, I spotted the tiniest bird drinking droplets of water from the underside of our deck railing…sustenance for the littlest or least of these. When we’re reminded in Scripture that the birds and the flowers are fed and clothed and cared for, it’s true. And then, how much more must our Creator care for us? Infinitely more than we could ever understand.

We worry after so many things in this life. The details feel significant, the circumstances sometimes insurmountable. But then there is always hope in what is yet to come…the thing we cannot yet see. A week ago our yard was browning up in spite of all of our efforts to keep things watered. The sun had just been shining for so many consecutive days and our plants couldn’t withstand more of the dry heat. But now? Everything looks so lush and full and alive. Thriving wasn’t far behind the need, even though we couldn’t perceive it beforehand. This metaphor for living a life of trust is striking to me this week as I press into God’s sovereignty and lean nearer to Him daily, doing my best to rely on His life and Word as my sources of health and strength.

It’s not easy being green on our own, is it? We weren’t created to live without help, without community, without God’s intervention, without prayer, without sustenance. We need both sun and rain to keep going–to keep growing well where we are. We need heat and cool, we need truth and hope, we need trust and reliance. And we often need patience, sometimes up to what feels like the last possible moment, to receive whatever God has for us out of His abundance. I’m so thankful for tangible illustrations these days to be reminded of what’s true and where to hang my hat. As I feel so sensitive (in heart, mind, body and spirit) to all that’s happening around me right now, God is so good to meet my sensitivities with His narrative. It feels like inches of rain, generously poured out in the right moments, on land just waiting to spring forth with hope and life.

MM