MollyMadonna.com

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“don’t blink,” everyone always says.

Ok, it’s happening. And it’s weird, and I don’t know if I like it or what exactly to think about it, but…all of the tiny babes who were born this Spring alongside Henry are growing up! As if completely out of nowhere, they’re suddenly these little people who move and make amazing sounds and display remarkable levels of cognition, and WOW. I just suddenly feel like time sped up in one short moment.

Because I’m fairly certain that I was just meeting them all for the first time, and they were scrunchy and seemingly helpless and ohsoincredibly fresh from God in those early days. Now, while no longer scrunchy and murmur-y and such, they’re reminding us of how perfectly creative a God we serve in entirely new and refreshing ways. And I have loved both seasons.

Still, I’m completely in awe of the change.

I held a friend’s beautiful, perfect, tiny little three week old this morning and my heart skipped a few beats. He is just the cuddliest, coziest, warmest, sleepiest little being at the moment, and a few minutes with him on my shoulder was pure Heaven. How much must God delight in the newness and sweet vulnerability of a tiny babe? Already, Henry is in a completely new and dynamic stage of life, and I’m beginning to wonder how long I’ll have to wait before we step into that sleepless and marvelous space again with a someday brother or sister.

Time. There is plenty of time. But in the midst of watching newborns turn rapidly into five and six month olds, and as we celebrate the incredible new lives entering the world all around us (seemingly all at once:), it’s hard not to anticipate the process again. It was, after all, the most wonderful thing we’ve ever put our lives into. And he still, most certainly, is.

amazed,

mm

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not the driver.

This morning while Henry napped, I got ready as usual and then tried to decide what one or two things to tackle before I expected him to wake up a short time later. I sorted and started a load of laundry, made the bed, wrote a commercial for work, sent a few emails, then checked to see if H was still breathing or lying awake in his crib in complete quiet. Nope, just sleeping. So I pondered squeezing in the dishes, making a phone call, sending a birthday text and folding some laundry…but not before a moment of clarity and the freeing decision to rid my life of Facebook for the week.

Here’s the thing of it: Facebook is an escape mechanism for me in far too many moments of the day. By nature of its convenient access on my phone, the habit of “just checking” sneaks in between activities with HD, while I’m nursing, before I fall asleep at night and generally whenever I have more than a minute (but less than 10) of downtime. I think I do this because I like to feel connected to the outside world while I’m at home with a very small person who does not yet make conversation. Facebook provides some sort of constant news reel into the daily lives of the people around me, and while I’m not often looking for the details of what’s happening across town or in someone else’s backyard, I am interested in the things that interest others–great links to intriguing websites, photos from the last historic wedding or vacation, queries about baby things and the delight of being new parents (as so many of our friends have become in recent weeks and months). Facebook creates the opportunity to share and interact without the necessity of scheduling twelve hundred coffee dates or lunches–it connects friends who would otherwise be at a distance and bridges the communication gap in all of our busy lives. And while I’m all for coffee dates galore and lunches penciled into plenty of squares on the calendar, let’s be honest. It would be impossible to connect with all of the same people we do on Facebook in actual, face-to-face conversation…or at least it would be impossible to do so nearly as often. So, yes. I like it. Admittedly, I’ve grown perhaps a little too attached to it in the quiet that has evolved around life as a stay-at-home, work-at-home mom. I used to interact with people in person all day long. And I miss it.

But truthfully, I’ve started to feel a bit strange about the way that I’m drawn to FB on the screen as soon as I open my computer. I’d rather check my news feed than my email, would rather catch up on photos of other people’s adorable children in photo albums than scrapbook all of the pictures piling up of our own. I think maybe I’ve lost a little bit of myself in the world of social networking, and I don’t even know when it happened.

This was a sobering realization this morning as I took a little time in the quiet just to think. I occurred to me that I’m always wishing for more time to handle the million things I either want or need to accomplish. Like blogging. Reading. Journaling. Sleeping. Working. Praying. (And not in that order.) There’s just so much I need–and I do mean need, to be about right now. And Facebook isn’t one of them. Yes, I absolutely want to connect with friends. Yes, I absolutely am interested in their lives, families, worries, excitements, and status updates. But my status as a spiritually and emotionally whole person is changing because I’m constantly discouraged about all I’ve needed to fit into one day and didn’t. And yes, I totally recognize this isn’t just about Facebook.

So today has been a lot about priorities, and about ways I can begin to curb my feelings of inadequacy on various levels in my daily life. When I made the decision to shut the Facebook window this morning and to sign off intentionally for at least a week, I immediately felt my spirit lift a little bit. It was freeing. One less thing that I have to keep up on throughout the day. I allowed myself to get into a habit that wasn’t necessarily harmful, but it wasn’t productive either. And now I’m going to break it.

As I went about the next 30 or so minutes of my morning before Hank woke up (Marathon nap today, little buddy. THANK YOU!), I felt like my mind was more clear and as though God was absolutely guiding me through my time. I’ve noticed quite regularly since H was born that if I desperately need to do or finish something before he wakes up, I have just exactly the perfect amount of time to complete the task. Then Henry, as if on cue, wakes up and lets me know I’m needed–not a moment too late nor a moment too soon. I’ve believed this is God’s way of blessing me with time on each occasion. And I believe without a doubt that it happened again today. I wanted to get a certain number of things done. I said a prayer. I had my little Facebook revelation, and I got to work. Darn if Henry didn’t sleep right up until I was finished with what I needed to do. God covered me and my time this morning, and I think it’s because I let Him drive. I’m certain I didn’t arrive at the conclusion to ditch Facebook all on my own–I like it too much. Instead, I just asked God to help me find time, and He did, right in front of me. Right where I needed it. As silly as it may seem, it’s a big deal to me. Life is a whole lot smoother a ride when I don’t always insist on driving.

handing over the keys this week, and hopefully the next…and the next…

mm

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laundry.

Sometimes, while doing the laundry, I could just cry at how perfectly small Henry’s clothes are. Folding onesies and baby socks and tiny little pants and shirts, I’m genuinely overwhelmed by what a great blessing it is to have the responsibility. Tonight, as I took H’s sweet little swim shirt out of the washer, I thought about mommies at heart who have never had the privilege of putting away clothes for a baby of their own. And I said a little prayer of thanksgiving for the honor of being a mom–for the joy of doing laundry late on a Saturday night and for all of the reasons our washer and dryer get so much use these days. I’m not sure I would have been so taken by plain old laundry at any other point in my life until now, but somehow I’m soaking up the chance to wash items that have become favorites…drying things gingerly in hopes that Henry might wear them “just one more time” before I have to put them away for (hopefully!) future babes.

I love the smallness of Henry’s clothes. I’m taken by the perfection of the arms and legs and hands and feet that fit inside them. As our bug grows, I’ll miss this sweet time of tiny little everything–will likely trade my joy over Hank’s baby items for new delights found in grass-stained knees, ground in dirt and the wonder that is a growing, curious, adventurous little boy.

Coming from a girl who thought she could never really get into baby boy clothes, I’m amazed at how much they mean to me now. Turns out, I just needed the right little man to wear them 😉

in the midst of trying to serve, i marvel at the way God is serving my heart!

mm

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the best time of day.

Our little Henry turned four months old yesterday, and it feels far more like a milestone than I ever imagined. He is such a sweet, sweet baby. Even in the hardest moments, I realize (as much as I’m able) just how blessed we are to have a healthy, happy child. All day yesterday, I found myself thanking God for every day we’ve been given thus far–and I couldn’t help but reminisce about the things we’ve already shared…our first days in the hospital, bringing Henry home to grow and learn and live and love with us, visiting with grandparents, watching parades, traveling out West, dipping our toes, playing with friends, reading, singing, dancing, cooing and praying together, countless hours in the rocking chair in the peaceful quiet of night.

Henry, of course, is growing–and he’s growing fast. I’ve packed away an entire tub of clothes, and I add more to the mix almost every week. Between rolling over and giggling joyfully, tummy time and blowing raspberries, teething and “talking” from the backseat of the car, he has taken my world by storm. And I’m never going to be the same again. I start my day with Henry, and I end it with one last little kiss on his forehead as I make my way to bed. Jason and I both agree that our time together in the nursery at H’s bedtime is the absolute BEST time of day, and I’m not sure we’d know what to do with ourselves between 8 and 9pm anymore if it weren’t filled with pj’s and bath time and family story time, laying all in a row on a quilt on the nursery floor.

Everything is better with a little Henry David in our lives.

Tomorrow morning, he’ll begin to coo and I’ll wake up to find him smiling widely in his crib–just as he is every morning these days, ready to begin another adventure. And tomorrow morning, we’ll three snuggle up in our cozy bed after H’s first feeding, enjoying our Saturday routine and the joy that comes with being his *lucky* parents.

Henry is the icing on every cake. He’s the sugary sweetness of a ripe, August peach as it runs down all sticky onto your face and fingers. He’s the harmony to our melody and the bounce in my step. God’s way of showing us His love in the grandest fashion; a baby boy teaching me all about love and sacrifice and willingness and seeking joy in the little things. Delight. Growth. Grace.

amazed on a daily basis,

mm

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dreaming bigger.

Sitting in church this morning, I was struck by Dr. James Dobson’s message on building and leaving a family legacy. As he talked about praying for our children and our children’s children, I caught myself in a habit I’ve often battled: I’m dreaming too small and limiting God. Here’s the thing–I’ve been feeling good about praying for Henry every night as I put him down to sleep (and often during the day as I feed him or while we play)…but my prayers are perhaps too simple. I ask regularly for Henry’s protection and health, for his night’s sleep and the day ahead. I pray that God will be present in Henry’s life, and that he’ll come to know Christ and desire the presence of the Holy Spirit. In a way, I thought I was covering all of the bases. But what about Henry’s children? And their children after that? And what about the woman he’ll someday marry, or the profession he’ll be called to, or the temptations he’ll face? I’ve prayed about these things on occasion, but not on a daily basis; As his mom, isn’t that my job?

It’s easy to see Henry’s needs as a baby right now and to pray to their end. And it’s easy to know my own fears and reservations as a new mom and to pray about them as well. But it takes more thought and consideration to cover all of the things that Henry will encounter. Eventually. Yet they all matter and they’re all a part of my responsibility to lift to our ever-so-responsive and attentive God.

This dreaming bigger concept applies to much of my life in its current state. At this juncture, having exited the first few blurring months of parenting with a little more sleep under my belt and a little more sanity these days, I’m starting to realize all of the loose ends I’d like to gather as we move into another season. The trajectory of my life–of our family, depends on the level of intentionality I apply to everything I do. This is no small charge, and nothing I can simply tackle on my own. In order to live well–with purpose and direction and integrity, I absolutely have to lean humbly on God. As Dr. Dobson reiterated today,

Unless the LORD builds the house,
They labor in vain who build it; [Psalm 127.1]

As I go to bed tonight, I am reminded of the significance of my role as wife and mother to the men in this household, to future children…as grandmother and great-grandmother to generations yet unborn. I don’t ever want to regret the missed opportunity to pray things into being–especially for the family that God has entrusted to me for a time. Thus, I am leaning on a most powerful God for far more than I would ever be able to accomplish of my own volition…

Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain. [1 Cor 15.58]

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. [Eph. 3.20-21]

eyes wide open,

mm