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Metamorphosis. (87)

For the past few weeks, we’ve watched closely as five caterpillars have undergone the first few steps of their transformation into butterflies. They arrived in the mail and ate their way around a small container for a week or so, eventually shedding their last exoskeletons and attaching to the lid of the container to hang and form chrysalides. It’s been a little over a week since then, and today, three of the five butterflies emerged. All day they’ve been stretching and drying out their wings, completing the last bits of the transformation process to prepare for release.

Watching these seemingly helpless, infant-staged caterpillars evolve into beautiful butterflies feels a bit like a front row seat to pregnancy from a different vantage point. This baby growing inside is transforming right now in order to be ready to emerge into this world. The mystery of how this transpires is still so great to me. Something from nothing. Life from dust. I just can’t help but marvel at how God does this work, and somehow, the miracle is more surprising to me than it’s ever been. It doesn’t feel matter of fact to me at all; every day I wake up more amazed by what’s happening.

Seeing three butterflies alive and well in their butterfly house today has captivated everyone here. We keep checking on the remaining chrysalides with anticipation, admiring the butterflies that have already stretched their wings. Of course, the anticipation we all feel about meeting this little one in my belly is far greater, but the source of joy is the same–new life is captivating. Bearing witness to it is all grace.

E asked today how many more weeks we have to go until baby, and when I told her it was about twelve, she mentioned that that seemed pretty soon to her, even if she knew it sounded like a long time to me. And while twelve weeks does seem far away in some ways (and I love her for knowing that), it really seems like nothing when I consider than an entire human life is transforming in this span of time. In the same way that I can’t understand how a caterpillar becomes a butterfly in a matter of weeks, I can’t grasp the millions of details that fit into a nine and a half month process and result in a life we already love unconditionally–someone who is already part of the fabric of our family. To be a vessel in this undertaking is beyond my comprehension.

The song, “New Wine,” by Hillsong runs through my mind with frequency, and it is my fervent prayer:

In the crushing
In the pressing
You are making new wine
In the soil
I now surrender
You are breaking new ground

So I yield to You into Your careful hand
When I trust You I don’t need to understand

Make me Your vessel
Make me an offering
Make me whatever You want me to be
I came here with nothing
But all You have given me
Jesus bring new wine out of me…

Transforming is hard work, and God is illustrating to me in so many ways that He has always been in the business of transformation in our lives. I’m so thankful He sees it through and doesn’t give up on us mid-metamorphosis.

MM

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New Mercies in the Morning. (88)

Maybe my last post made this evident, but yesterday was a rough day. Looking back on it, I felt up against all kinds of spiritual things that sort of pummeled my morale all day long, and I went to bed both exhausted and resolute. There’s something about sensing that it’s a spiritual battle that gives me a kind of gusto for getting back at things the next day.

Then last night, my night’s sleep was short, and I didn’t necessarily expect that I’d wake up feeling upbeat. But grace flooded in, because my feet hit the ground with promises running through my head, and I felt like I had a new lease on things from the day before. It’s really true that God’s mercies are new every morning. As I drove H to school, that was the first thing I could think to pray…”Thank you, God, that your mercies are new again today and that we can experience them again.” I love that this isn’t as complicated as we might try to make it sometimes in our bent as humans. When we wake up, the promise is there. New mercies. They don’t run out or expire.

I’ve learned that I can walk in my own temporary truths, or I can press into the ones that are really there for me–the Word and what God has to offer to my spirit, even and especially when I’m feeling wrung out. When I can find my way through the hard or the voice in my head or the moment that left me discouraged, there is freedom waiting on the other side. How I ever lived without it, I’m not sure, but with God’s promises at hand I can expect a different result. Coming to rely on that has released so much consternation and striving over time.

Some things aren’t going to right themselves overnight. Certain battles feel harder won than others, or maybe not won at all. I can’t assume that I’ll wake up in the morning and the problems left behind from yesterday will have disappeared. What I do know, though, is that my capacity to handle things is greater after I’ve slept on them. Greater still, when I’ve released them to God before my eyes close on the day. I don’t feel called anymore to resolve everything as I once did. I only feel called to hand things to God and ask for help (or even to just acknowledge my limitations). When I do, I experience those mercies that only God can offer me, and I know more fully that He is there and willing to extend himself to me again and again.

This life is such a gift. Each day, a gift. When I feel like I’m missing it, I only have to wake up and trust for the blurred lines to become clearer.

MM

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Let everything that has breath praise the Lord. (91)

Today was a much awaited day in our household. After the cancellation of just about everything that everyone everywhere had planned last spring, the fact that we’re sitting at baseball games and attending music programs this year feels extra life-giving and worth savoring, doesn’t it? I really think I could pinch myself sometimes, watching the world wake back up and things come to life again. I know I’m not alone in this–we’ve all missed “normal” so much after more than a year’s time.

I won’t say that I minded a slower pace in so many moments since last March, because it was no doubt good in many ways, as much as it was hard. But I have to admit that the distinction in our kiddos as they return to their activities and I observe their growth, well…it’s just crazy how much has changed. They’re not just taller or wiser, they’re braver, ever-hopeful, altered in many ways by the time gone by and the reality of facing new unknowns and bigger mountains. I’m proud of them on any given day, but then when they have the chance to shine in something they’ve worked hard at or loved, my heart isn’t just walking around outside of my body in those moments. It’s floating somewhere I can’t explain, just so, so filled with gratitude for these lives we’ve been called to steward. For all the times I fail in my communication or grace or understanding as a parent, they rise to the occasion and extend themselves in forgiveness and love poured back out to me. This can only be the work of the Holy Spirit in our lives–this extension of grace so tangible in ways I’d never know without them here.

This afternoon, Eloise danced in her annual showcase, which is always a gift to attend. The intentionality and worship that happens in preparation for an hour or two of dancing is just so uplifting–tiny little ballerinas and maturing, strong dancers who have trained for years, all together on one stage lifting up praise to God and honoring Him with their discipline and skill. I remember when Eloise danced for the first time, and I cried at how beautiful it was to see her among a group of itty-bitty ballerinas twirling so freely in pink and purple tutus. They didn’t have to find the beat or remember their choreography to move hearts; their joy in movement and music together was exactly the reminder anyone might need. To have faith like a child…to dance and twirl and leap with abandon…we could all benefit from that kind of freedom and worship.

Now, while that mini ballerina is still fresh in my mind three years later, I watched her dance today with a new level of confidence and grace in this thing God is using in her life to draw her closer to Him. The words of the songs were just so perfect as she moved with a maturity that somehow took me by surprise, even though I’m watching her grow every day:

“You’re parting waters. Making a way for me. You’re moving mountains that I don’t even see. You’ve answered my prayer before I even speak. All you need for me to be is still. And know that you are God. Be still, and know that You, trust that You are…”

And then later with pure joy as she tapped across the stage:

“I get this feeling in my spirit way down low. I hear it callin’ like a compass in my soul. Saying child come on back now. You’ve been gone too long. Let me lead you back where you belong. Right next to me…You put the X on my faded map. Draw me a line back to where you’re at. Patient when I try to move to fast, I get this feelin’…”

You can bet I was in tears again…joy and awe and pride all mixed together over four minutes of dancing that I hope to never forget. When we do things with our whole hearts and intent on bringing praise to God, something beautiful happens and it’s hard not to be drawn closer. I have to believe this is because we were built for worship–made to glorify him in every way we’re able, and that’s exactly what today felt like in the fullest of ways.

I’m so thankful for the reminder that we are called to praise God with our whole selves. The littlest three and four year olds demonstrated this perfectly as they lived out their training and preparation today in full force. These ballerinas aren’t just learning how to dance; they’re learning how to more fully become the young women God is calling them to be. Watching Eloise dance this afternoon didn’t just make me cry–it also made me laugh with delight and mouth the words my heart has so frequently needed to hear this year, “You’re parting waters. Making a way for me. You’re moving mountains that I don’t even see. You’ve answered my prayer before I even speak. All you need for me to be is still.”

Lord, that I would praise you with my whole self, today and every day of this pregnancy and in motherhood and in all the days to come. With every fiber of who I am and every breath, Father, I trust you, I am seen by you, and I know that you are God.

May it always be so,

MM

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Some days, you just need a milestone. (92)

I’m shaking my head a little in disbelief tonight. Today marks 27 weeks pregnant and the beginning of my third trimester. While I definitely feel 27 weeks pregnant (maybe more?), the mental shift for me in knowing we’ve reached the third trimester is just huge. I needed this milestone today.

The weather has been amazingly summer-y and I love it in every way. I’ll admit though, if the heat of the past two days has been foretelling of the next few months, I’m going to default to air conditioning and popsicles, smoothies and shade far more from now until August than I usually do. I might also need to embrace extra naps, extra limitations, less speed–none of which I’m very good at doing. It’s no wonder that the word I sensed God showing me for 2021 is STILL.

Still is a challenge for me. I wish it weren’t. Sometimes it’s to my benefit that I like to go, go, go, but probably not in my third trimester with three active kiddos and a busy family schedule. My slower speed is impacting everyone at home already…”I’m sorry, honey. Mom just can’t do that right now,” and “I wish I could, sweetie, but I just need to rest,” are becoming hallmark phrases of this season. Coupled with my hyperactive nesting ambitions right now, the result is generally an Ennegram 1 level of frustration that I am definitely being called to check. I know that God is pressing me in this way in love, desiring for me to know more of a reliance on Him and still less and less dependence on my own strength. Somehow this is a tutorial that continues to need review in my life.

In all aspects of stretching that are happening right now: the physical stretching of every bit of my mid-section, the spiritual stretching of my ability to be still and know, the emotional stretching of trusting daily that our baby is growing and well, and the mental stretching of embracing this time for all of its beauty when our default as humans is to grumble…each area of my life is God doing His work in His timing. I do feel so humbled to be on this journey, I really do.

So, third trimester, and it feels amazing to be able to say that, as much as it also feels bittersweet. I can’t wait to tangibly hold this baby, but I also want to soak up every bit of this time without wishing any ounce of it away. I have loved being pregnant with each of our babies. And since I was arriving at a place of being resigned that my last pregnancy had likely come and gone, this experience feels all the more rich and special and grace-filled than I could have even imagined. It’s all bonus and extra and wonder and surprise, even on the hard or hot or exceptionally stretching days. They say your body is forever altered by every life you carry, and I couldn’t possibly refute it. This baby, this grace–it is changing me every day, and I’ll surely not be the same.

Humbled is an understatement…

MM

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At the end of the day. (95)

Little one,

Your mama is tired tonight. So tired. For good and beautiful reasons that are worth celebrating, it’s a fall into bed exhausted kind of a night. I want you to learn good habits from me, and if I have bad ones, staying up late is among them. But you and I both know that we need sleep in order for us to grow well together, so I’d love to be better at getting to bed, too.

As I type, my eyes will themselves to close, and I’ll spend as much time editing this as I do writing it, because it turns out I lean on certain letters on the keyboard for a long time when I’m falling asleep at the computer. 😉 That might be a trait you don’t need to adopt from your mama. Before I make this short and sweet for today, here are a few tips I feel like I could bestow for your future consideration:

  1. Go to bed. You need sleep. Your body functions on a cycle for a reason. Try not to ignore it.
  2. Sometimes there are things in life that are worth being tired for. Babies are one of them, so if I’m exhausted in this first months with you home, just know you’re worth every bit of it to me.
  3. There will always be trade-offs in life. If you discover what your non-negotiables are early on, you’ll save yourself lots of headache being wishy-washy in the future. Let your yes be your yes and your no be your no. I’ll expound on this at a later point, but just know it’s a respectful way to go through life–both for your own sake and for the sake of others.
  4. I love you an impossibly great amount, and I hope you’ll never doubt it. In part because of this, it’s time to sleep my love.

Always and always,

Mama