MollyMadonna.com

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Kick Counts. (81)

Little one,

We’ve had a day, you and I. Maybe I overdid it this weekend (someday you can ask me if I’m still struggling with being still), but there have been a lot of strange moments for us physically today. I suppose there’s no great need to go into the details here. I did end up calling the on-call doctor tonight, and since you’re back to moving around a bit better (good thing this isn’t my first rodeo and I’m familiar with the tricks of the trade), my instructions are to take it easy or take a nap, to get a good night’s rest and to keep monitoring your movement. That’s usually not an issue with you, sweet one.

I hope you’re just taking it easy in there after a few busy days. If anything can make me take pause, it’s knowing that I need to rest for your sake sometimes. And I am praying over you always and asking God to protect you and keep you healthy and strong. I know that’s the very best thing I can do (besides slow down). Someday I’ll teach you about prayer and what it means and why it’s so powerfully important. Besides those roundhouse kicks of yours, prayer will be your greatest defense in this life. It might even be your superpower if you let it. 😉

I love you with my whole heart, just as I do your brothers and sister. There’s nothing I won’t do for you, so you can stay tucked inside and happy for awhile longer knowing that I’ve got your best interest at heart from here, ok?

Rest well tonight, sweet baby. You are one of my greatest joys.

MM

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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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Savoring the good in a worrisome world. (96)

Tiny babe,

This world you’re coming into can be worrisome around every corner if you let it. The news rages each day with something new–something fear-inducing or morale-crushing or downright heartbreaking. People forget to be gentle with themselves, and consequently it seems, they forget to be gentle with others, too. In spite of all this, it’s a beautiful place, I promise. But we can only live in a reality of beauty if we look for the good and celebrate it, and if we push back untruth and pray like our lives depend on it (spoiler alert: they do) and turn off the dang news.

I took a hiatus from all mainstream media in January, and it’s been the best medicine for my heart. I found that the level of worry I was carrying felt all too much–and especially with you growing inside. There’s just not room for added anxiety in an already anxiety-ridden world; I needed to be able to breathe deeply, to push out unnecessary mental strain, to savor peace wherever it crossed my path. I needed to know I was doing my best by you, and the news was not helping my cause, so I gave it up. It isn’t that I was devouring media before then, but more that I’d let stories and opinions creep into my days by accident. There they’d take hold and leave me ruminating more than necessary, so it was just time to call it quits. And you know what? I really haven’t looked back. It turns out that the news I need to know finds its way to me, and the rest runs through it’s cycle while I’m focused on the impact I can make in the here and now…in the world I’m most likely to influence, which is the one directly around me.

I don’t know what to expect things will look like when you’re someday old enough to process how the world is moving even as you stand right in the middle of it. Surely, those of us old enough to work through the happenings of the past year are still trying to figure out which end is up. And yet, we move forward, as humans always do. The option (as I see it) is to put one foot in front of the other, to pray for discernment and peace, and to trust that nothing we come across is a surprise to God. Meanwhile, we surely can savor the good in our midst–usually the simplest, most stripped down moments, the kindnesses, the minutes or hours we’re handed to reflect, worship, become better versions of ourselves than we once were. I’m no good at this on my own, but we serve a very compassionate and gracious God who will guide us in this way if we let Him. I pray you’ll come to know Him in as personal a way as He’s allowed me to meet Him, and then even more.

You are still so tiny and growing, and this is all beyond your scope of understanding now, by years, even. But someday I hope you’ll come across these entries and be reminded that there is good waiting for you, whether or not you have to go looking for it. If you do have to go looking for it, it is by all means worth the pursuit. And when God shows you a little bit more of Himself through His kindnesses to you (in a sunrise, in a hot cup of tea, in a hug from a friend, in a song that makes you cry because the words are perfect and they meet you right where you are), know that His creativity and goodness know no bounds. Forget what the world says then. Turn the volume waayyyy down on the commotion and blanket yourself in what is true: You are loved. You are wanted. You are enough. Nothing is a surprise to God and nothing is too big for him either. Your troubles are never too much for Him, and neither are you. Savor the good right in front of you then, sweet baby. And be at peace.

Love you with my whole heart,

Mama