MollyMadonna.com

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heartstrings. (66)

I am all over the board emotionally these days. Chalk it up to pregnancy hormones or whatever we’d like, I feel a bit like a ping pong ball. One minute I am so deeply challenged by our ever-changing kiddos, and the next I am falling all over myself out of love for them. I know that this is the dichotomy of parenting, but the contrast from day to day is especially strong in our house right now.

My sister had a baby girl on Friday and she is so far away. I am loving all of the photos and updates, but at the same time, I’m aching to be there. I’d love nothing more than to be snuggling a fresh new babe and helping my sister in all of the newness and change. There’s so much joy in thinking about my new niece, and about my sister traveling down this new path as a mom to three, but it’s all kinds of hard not to be a part of the joy in person.

For the past few weeks, we’ve been on a bit of a roller coaster regarding plans for our next birth, which has been an emotional trigger, too. We were saddened by the news of our friend and doula moving away, and I had to hit the reset button on how I picture the birthing space we’ll create for baby when he or she is born. Our doula was with us for both Henry and Eloise, and she had become a fixture in the vision of that day in my mind. I needed to plod through a few weeks of praying and sorting out how I really want things to be come September, and I needed to process a little grief over the change.

As of today, I think we’ve landed on a peaceful new scenario that puts my heart and mind at greater ease. I didn’t realize how heavily this was weighing on me until I looked through a few birth photography images this afternoon. When someone else’s brand new baby made me burst into tears, the lifted burden became wildly apparent. My heart needed to settle somewhere new regarding our baby’s arrival, and now it can.

After yesterday’s rough patch with the kiddos and with my own disposition, I was really ready for today to take a different direction. Thankfully, the plans on the calendar lent themselves to refreshment from a variety of sources, and I’m sitting in a different space tonight than I was just twenty four hours ago.

In this stage of raising two small humans and growing another, I know that there are going to be days that feel particularly hard. I also know that they’ll be followed up by respite from any number of directions. I’m so thankful that thoughtful, praying friends are only a text or a phone call away–I’m not sure how we would all dance through these up and down seasons otherwise.

My heart feels a bit like a marionette, and that’s okay. Some strings tug at it from a life-giving place of hope, and others yank back in a darker direction that I have to be intentional about shutting down. Prayer and rest, worship, heart-led conversations, and quality time with the people I love all help to settle the strings and tone down the antsy dance that can otherwise begin to well up in me.

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A (decaf) latte and some time to reflect can do wonders.

Pregnant or not pregnant, there’s plenty right now to draw me toward spaces of stability, positivity, and truth. I need to keep fueling my heart and mind with these, so that the hard days have their place, but they don’t bleed over into all of the good.

My heartstrings are getting their exercise, which simply wouldn’t be the case without plenty of highs to contrast some of the wearing lows. There are just spaces in life that feel far more like peaks and valleys than even terrain, and this is one of them; while I don’t get excited about experiencing the valleys sometimes, I certainly do appreciate that the mountain tops are lofty along the way.

willing tomorrow to be filled with life-giving nudges anew,

mm

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why life feels a lot like pregnancy right now. (68)

“Boy or girl?”

Probably the #1 and most natural question for people to ask when they notice a pregnant belly, right? A handful still ask, “Do you know what you’re having?” But most assume that we know, and that makes sense. I’m not sure on percentages, but certainly more people find our their baby’s gender these days than not. And that’s totally cool.

We’ve chosen not to find out whether we’re having a boy or girl for the third time in a row, although I have to admit, there a lot of days that I’d love to know. I still enjoy holding out on the surprise more than knowing, so I just have to stick to that mindset in ultrasounds. Seems simple enough, but there are times when having answers to life’s questions just. feels. better. The gratification might be temporary, and yet, it’s really hard to wait for pieces of the puzzle, isn’t it?

When I look to the future, I feel like so much of our life these days is a question mark. Arguably, we’re never guaranteed anything, so it’s really not fair to take anything for granted. But it sure is easier to feel like we *kind* of know what’s coming next, and right now, I can’t see past a few days at a time.

I know we’re counting down to baby, and I can guesstimate how much time we have between now and meeting our little boy or girl. That might be all that feels set in stone at the moment, so life is feeling quite a lot like pregnancy, with all of its surprises and the waiting; with all of the hoping and all of the times I try to open my hands up to God in surrender and prayer.

None of this is awful. I realize I’m staying cryptic about some things for now, and when the time is right, I’ll share more candidly as it feels fitting. I’m trying to process this limbo-like space responsibly, which is why I’m not ready to share my whole hand. Much of it may be very good, and some of it might be hard. Most of it will probably be both hard and good, and I’m ok with that reality. I trust that all of it will stretch me and shape me more into the woman that God is calling me to become, and I’m great with that part.

Pregnancy has so many beautiful ups and downs. It’s the perfect physical/mental/emotional/spiritual roller coaster that most often ends as one of the greatest thrill rides of our lives.

When I want to know this baby’s gender, or I want to be able to see the future and have all of the answers and feel like I’ve got life “figured out,” I just remind myself how much I absolutely love the reward of waiting to know the whole story.

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When this baby is born and Jason announces, “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl!” there will be very little else to top that moment in my memory book. Meeting our babies and finding out who they are has been the very greatest surprise each time. Even when my heart has had a hunch, I’ve gained so much from trusting that whatever gender our baby might be, it’s exactly what God has planned for our family.

I can rest there. I can have so much peace in that holding space.

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And so it is with many other areas of our life as a family right now. Jason and I are asking ourselves all kinds of good and hard questions about the future, what’s best for our family from many angles, and how we want to cultivate our values, goals and beliefs as a unit.

It’s a season of evaluation–one of becoming more introspective as we put our ears to the ground and try to glean what God’s best might be for the next weeks, months, and years ahead.

Life is pregnant with possibility, and that is beautiful. As this belly grows toward some hopeful “knowns” and a greater number of unknown surprises, too, I want so much to rest in a trusting place. My heart is to put what we can’t see on the table each day and to offer it up, whether for more pieces of the puzzle to land where they belong, or for wisdom and strength as we continue to work at being people with our hands open and our lives surrendered.

As with carrying a baby for nine months and undergoing change in more obvious ways, I’m changing on the inside just as much or maybe more. There is work to be done in me that I cannot see, but that I can anticipate fully as I wade through the waiting. At the end of the story, there’s always more than my human heart can imagine.

it seems a bit sweeter that way.

mm

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jumping bean. (73)

Thirty weeks tomorrow. Man, that feels good. I truly love, love, love being pregnant, but this time around has been a constant exercise in seeking and choosing joy in every step. I think I do this well on the whole each day, although there have been many near-breakdown moments, too. Today was full of them.

I don’t know if it’s the heat, or just that I’m extra tired, but little things are getting to me like big things normally would. Since I want this to be an honest record of my pregnancy experience, I’m just going to let that reality sit here for tonight. It feels like a safe place to put it.

There were so many good things about today: time out in town with the kids, treats at the coffee shop, a visit to daddy’s work, sunshine. We picked up a friend’s CSA this afternoon because they’re out of town, and it was such a delight to pick beans with the kiddos and to see them loving every bit of it. (Made me miss our CSA from years past, and we’ll definitely be back at it next summer!) I wish I had a photo to share of the sweetness of Eloise discovering purple and yellow beans, but alas. I was busy soaking up yet another moment where our days are spent as three on the verge of four. The bittersweetness of that reality is growing more tangible by the day. Tonight, Henry and Jason took a four mile bike ride while Eloise and I had a story date at the library. It was so good for everyone, but it’s still hard to recognize that even one-on-one dates with the kids will be changing very soon.

I don’t mean to gripe about any of this in the least. All day today, our baby has been jumping around enthusiastically in my belly. Every kick and roll and movement brings me joy (and occasionally pain 😉 ) as he or she grows bigger and stronger by the day. The further along we go, the more delighted I am to think about welcoming our jumping bean into the fold. I love every bit of that. I’m just plodding through some of the realities of the life change that’s coming, even as we celebrate it, too.

All day today, the list of “things I actually really need to do before baby” and the other list of “things I’d really like to do before baby” have been running through my mind. This is the nature of the third trimester, I know, but it’s hard not to stare down the pile that’s in front of me as the stack of days gets shorter and shorter. There will always be things we want to do that we can’t get to, and things we think we need to get to that don’t really matter. Then there are the things that really do matter, and those inevitably take shape somehow before the big day, just as with weddings and other big life events. Being pregnant means a walk down this path at some point along the way–the self talk, sometimes the worry or stress, and certainly the sense of imperfection as a mama who is nesting, particular, hormonal, juggling other littles, excited about prepping for baby, or any combination of the above.

Today I am all of those things, and a little extra tired, too.

This 100 day exercise is so good for me, because I never know quite where I’m going to land when I sit down to the keys. I love that it then becomes a very authentic picture of where I am (and someday, where I’ve been) as pregnancy progresses and many other elements factor into the story.

I’m so grateful for all of the signs of life within me, especially now as baby’s bones are hardening and every movement is much more obvious to all of us here in the little blue house. It’s as if baby is saying, “I’m here! Include me, too! I’m getting ready to be a part of what’s happening out there!” And it’s so fun to see the kids getting more excited as they witness all of this belly activity, which helps a great deal on the days that are particularly hard compared to others.

I don’t know what it was about today. Not just one thing, certainly. Spats between the kids, a very thick summer heat, nights of broken rest starting to stack up, the world feeling especially crazy. Even if I weren’t expecting, maybe there would have been more of an edge to today than most.

Still, I’m thrilled to be arriving at 30 weeks tomorrow, and so amazed at what God has done to bring us to this point. That part isn’t lost on me any day. If you’re the praying kind, I’d humbly ask that you ask God to keep pointing our little family (and especially my heart) toward Him in the days to come. I am absolutely imperfect and so very human, and pregnancy tends to bring that out even a bit more often at this stage.

love from where i meet these keys, and grace for all that you faced today and will face tomorrow, great or small,

mm

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when the world calls us from every direction, how do we respond? (75)

Yesterday, there were countless moments that required us each to act, and today it was the same. This is true of every twenty four hours as we encounter each other, as we raise small children, and as we face the world.

There are factors in each interaction that tip the scales for us toward one bent or another. Will we be calm? gracious? kind? Or will a moment of frustration mean we’re sharp or impatient? Are we tired, achy, not feeling well, having a bad day? Are we just weary of things everywhere requiring some kind of emotional response?

I think we’re all growing weary of circumstances that draw out bold emotions lately. The world is still so beautiful, but it calls us to face new and hard realities every day as of late. There is heartache everywhere. Evil seems like it’s running rampant, and it can feel like our hands are mostly tied.

The news just keeps coming, and whether we don’t think it gets to our core after a while, we’d have to be unfeeling not to bear the impact of the current state of world affairs.

So when a little person needs attention, or a spouse is juggling his or her own baggage from the day, or a stranger is feeling the same kind of raw that the rest of us are, what are our options as we interact?

Even as I type this, our littlest is upstairs begging for someone to come and “be by her,” over an hour after bedtime began, and I’m feeling tested in the patience department. How do I best act in this moment? I want to be selfish, but I don’t know that that’s the best thing for anyone…

Honestly, my first M.O. these days is to feel frustrated. It’s bedtime, and I want to be writing, not tending to little ones anymore for the day. In this space, where so much else demands emotional balance lately, I’d prefer to ignore it, or to be mean about it, or to pass it off to someone else. But my reacting in any of those ways is unhelpful. It exacerbates the issue. Nobody wins.

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I figured that Eloise’s crying and desperation upstairs just now were kind of a test as I’m writing about this very thing, so I conceded my stubbornness and irritation and went upstairs. She didn’t really need anything except a little affirmation, which required all of three minutes and my ability to respond lovingly as her mom. Even on the worst days, I ought to be able to navigate three minutes. She is still awake upstairs now, but peaceful and calm as I type. This outcome is better for everyone. Plus, I’m not sitting here with major mommy guilt about being selfish and inattentive, which is a bonus. 😉

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The thought I’ve had all day (and one that was reiterated for me just now) is that we have the choice of being reactionary or responsive in every moment of the day. Every single one. Whether it’s a simple, small thing with the kiddos or another heartbreaking news story that has us reeling with anger, sadness or deep seated hurt.

Responsive means we’re taking the time (and probably a deep breath) to think about what we do, what we say, or how we act…before we offer ourselves to someone else in any way.

Reactionary means we’re likely acting out of emotion, in a hurry, or without consideration for how our words and actions might add or detract from the situation.

In my experience, responsive usually ends in a positive result of some kind, while reactionary often instigates even more heightened emotion, causes hurt feelings, and feeds misunderstanding.

Though it usually draws more energy to approach something or someone in a responsive way, the feedback is far more likely to move things forward instead of back. Reactionary moments almost always set me back instead of encouraging myself or anyone else down a positive road.

I have so grappled with wanting to respond to the events of these past few weeks–the heart wound that keeps opening up again and again all over the world and in our own backyards. In the face of evil and hatred, what is the right thing to do or say that will move any of us forward? What will bring glory to grace and love, instead of giving evil an even greater foothold?

I cannot pretend to have answers to many of the world’s problems these days. I cannot stop evildoers from doing evil, just as much as I can’t keep someone from choosing hate over love because of skin color or background or race. I so deeply wish I could.

I can’t offer every refugee a home. I can’t feed every hungry mouth. I can’t bring world leaders to the table for real, effective conversations that move everyone forward toward peace.

But I can change the tide in my own spaces: in our home, across town, down the street.

I can choose to be responsive versus reactionary. I can let thoughtful conversation and prayer flow from my mouth, instead of vitriol or frustration or anger.

When our children need me to support them, I can be supportive instead of crabby. I can choose them over myself, even in tiny moments, throughout the day.

I can build up instead of tearing down.

If we think that we don’t tear each other down one comment, one eye roll, one Facebook post at a time, we are sorely mistaken. If we think that a loving response makes no difference at all, we haven’t considered how much someone else’s loving response has mattered to us. 

If we become so weary and worn down by our own circumstances and the circumstances of the world around us, and we react out of exhaustion or selfishness instead of responding out of empathy and love, we risk heaping coals on an already flaming fire than desperately needs putting out.

I cannot go into physical battle against the evils that terrorize human life and infuse fear into the world. But I can absolutely go into spiritual, mental, emotional battle with my choice to be responsive or reactionary, countless times, every twenty four hours.

The world needs more listeners than talkers right now. We don’t even need to open our mouths to love each other well; sometimes, it’s almost better if we’re quiet. And the beauty in this is that quiet is restorative. Just as we rest and our sleep gives us fuel for the next day’s contents, quieted hearts allow us to make space for more careful responding and less careless reacting. 

How can we make space, even once a day, to quiet ourselves? To listen, to pray, to meditate on what is lovely? It might seem like we can’t afford to make space in the busyness and stress of life these days, but the truth is, we can’t afford not to.

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Tomorrow is Monday, and we begin another week. We can’t possibly know what circumstances it will hold. But we can know how we hope to respond to them. Like a ripple in a pond, one gracious act begets another. I think there’s hope and peace and wisdom in that possibility.

grace to you this week as you seek to quiet your heart and to respond out of love to the people and places where you can have the greatest impact first.

mm

 

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accepting limitations with joy. (82)

Whew! I am exceptionally tired today. It’s the good kind of tired, like after you’ve done a crazy new workout that pushed you to your max, or after you’ve had a whirlwind day and moved lots of things around at seven months pregnant. 😉 I am not very good at having physical limitations, but I think with this one, I’ve met my match. I’ll have to give in a little to the truth and still find joy in it when it’s hard. This concept has been weighing on my heart a lot these days.

I’m ok with so many things about pregnancy, and honestly, after as badly as I wanted to be pregnant again, I really want to be able to embrace everything that pregnancy brings with it. Every time I feel a little complaint coming on, I think of the times I’ve not been pregnant and wished I were. I think of the time I was pregnant and then we lost baby #2. And more than anything, I think of my friends and family who have wanted so much to be pregnant and haven’t been able. Complaining about something I’ve wanted and prayed for just doesn’t feel right. And it doesn’t seem fair to other people’s hearts, and it doesn’t feel honoring to God or to this process.

Still, and with anything, there are days when the grass feels greener. We can all be too hard on ourselves, feeling guilty about getting the things we’ve wanted, or about the things we’ve wanted coming with some difficulty, too. It can feel shameful to admit that the good things are still hard, or to say that what we’ve wanted isn’t turning out exactly how we pictured it.

But I think if we don’t ever concede that things are harder than we thought they’d be, or that as much as we’re grateful, we’re still struggling through, we hold ourselves to a standard of perfection that just isn’t attainable.

Of course the good things in life can still be hard. And of course the hard things in life can still be good.

As I work through the days of this pregnancy that have been harder than I’d like and met with more limitation than I hoped, I recognize all the more that there’s one key element to my response in the face of adversity that makes all the difference. And if I don’t get this part right, I truly feel like I could miss the boat on the very biggest, very best, most challenging, and most formative experiences in my life (including pregnancy and childbirth, days caring for a newborn and all of the days that come after).

That element is joy. When the going gets hard, do I have joy? And if I don’t have joy, why not? And if I want joy and don’t have it, where can I find it?

The most pleasant people in my life are ones who embrace joy and keep it, unwaveringly so, in the midst of the good and bad and hard and beautiful. Their joy is a constant, and it’s detectable whether things are perfectly perfect or falling apart. They are still honest about how they’re feeling and not afraid to say that things are difficult, but they do not despair or ever lose all hope. These people offer life wherever they go. I hope that I land in this category more often than not, and that I will get better and better at choosing joy as I mature as a person and in my faith in the time to come.

The most challenging relationships I keep are with those who do not embrace joy and put it on each day as something they’ve been freely given; no matter how good or lovely or blessed their circumstances become, there is always something to grumble about and always something wrong. Joy might be a concept to them, but it is not a reality. The transformative power of joy is not evident as fruit in their lives. I don’t want to be someone who camps in this place.

I do want to be someone who can summon joy in the toughest of spaces–not because my circumstances dictate my disposition, but because my faith in God is keeping me on course. I want to have hope when things seem hopeless, and to be light to others when things feel dark.

The only way I can do this with any consistency is to keep my eyes on the Truth; hope in eternity and a desire to be more like Christ both offer me joy. Trusting that God sees me and knows me and loves me more than I can fathom offers me joy, too.

Choosing to make an effort each day to serve God in the ways I feel He’s calling me results in automatic joy. If my heart is after Him, then the opportunity to be in His will is a joyful thing. Maybe that’s while I’m navigating dynamics with an emotional child in one moment and embracing hard parts of pregnancy the next. Maybe that’s clearing out clutter to make room for what matters, or connecting with someone who’s been on my mind. These are all sources of joy if I allow them to be.

For me, joy is a matter of dying to self by remembering God and considering others. When I do these things, the fulfilling reality of Christ in me becomes my focus and my reward. My heart is not focused on the momentary inconvenience then, but rather the long term benefit or growth that will inevitably evolve as a byproduct of a joyful spirit.

I may be tired and sore, but I am also grateful. And gratitude changes my vantage point, allowing me to see and appreciate limitations in a new way. If I want it to be, the hard can be good. And I want it to be. I really, really do.

blessed to reap the benefits of joy tonight–an achy body and a peaceful heart,

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Thank you, Lord, for this 28 week bump that I wanted so badly for so long. Please help me to steward it well, and to find joy in all of the ways you have for me in this season!

Thank you, Lord, for this 28 week bump that I wanted so badly for so long. Please help me to steward it well, and to find joy in all of the ways you have for me in this season!