On Becoming a Mama

My daughter is now fifteen months old and I am 24 weeks pregnant with baby girl #2. Time passes differently once you’re a mother. Hours can seem to last for days and yet whole months fly by without warning. There is so much of my daughter’s precious first years that I want to remember, to bottle up and treasure in my heart forever. There are also daily frustrations and failures that I’d probably rather forget. 

Becoming a mother has changed me, stretched me, and continues to challenge me.  It is a role of joy, if I choose to find the joy in it. But there are many days when it’s mostly uncomfortable. It requires dying to self, and that is always hard. But I don't want to begrudge what is meant to be a blessing. I want to embrace motherhood and all its moments of tender sweetness. The bedtime hours spent singing softly in the rocking chair – the lyrics piercing my soul and redirecting my heart. Will she remember these melodies? Will she remember relaxing so cozily in my arms? I love her smile, he wholehearted laughs, her curious and sparkly blue eyes, her precious wiggly toes and long, lean legs. I love the way her arms move when she crawls at full speed with full gusto, the way she bobbles and dances to music, and the way she claps when she’s proud of herself for mastering a new skill. She has given me countless gifts, even the ones that are hard to receive. She helps me learn what it really means to love and she brings me face-to-face with my own fallen humanity. 

Motherhood is profound and beautiful and re-shapes a person in a thousand ways she wasn’t expecting.  In those coveted moments when I actually have time to sit back and reflect on my experiences as a mama (while she’s peacefully napping) I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world. But at least 4 times a day, when I'm in the trenches and she’s grating on me and everything seems to be going wrong, it’s easy in those moments to think that I’d like to just wish it all away. Thank God, in His grace, it’s not that easy to skip back to childless days. I would never learn anything if I could escape each trying situation so easily.

So here I am, fifteen months in and only beginning to finally be able to stake a claim to joy in the midst of it all. Joy in uncertainty. Joy in the mundane. Joy in the ups and downs that each new day brings. It’s not easy, this choosing joy, or rather this grasping for straws of joy hidden in unlikely haystacks.

The rains of life still come.

But I’m learning, oh how I’m learning.

Quiet Overflow

"Blessed are all who wait for Him!" Isaiah 30:18

“Why do you spend money for what is not bread,
And your wages for what does not satisfy?
Listen carefully to Me, and eat what is good,
And delight yourself in abundance.
Incline your ear and come to Me.
Listen, that you may live" - Isaiah 55:2-3
 
        I have been slowly learning to listen for God and be at rest. Having a new baby at home may seem like hardly the season for embracing stillness, but for whatever reason God has clearly, and forcefully at times, marked out a theme of quiet pause these past few months. Not that I have felt at rest most of the time; I have been too busy wrestling with God as I usually do when I don't understand what he's after. Anxieties have overrun my soul often, but as I look back it seems to be mostly self-inflicted restlessness. I have been fighting for my vision of how I want to serve God rather than waiting to hear how he wishes me to serve him. It is so much easier to do than to abide. 
           But now that I am beginning to obey, to settle down my soul to hear God's word, I find him ever-present and speaking in beautiful ways.

So I am sharing two selections that have spoken to me recent weeks.
First this quotation from "Sunday School Times":

Straining and striving does not accomplish the work God gives us to
do. Only God Himself, who always works without stress and strain and Who
never overworks, can do the work He assigns to His children. When we
restfully trust Him to do it, the work will be completed and will be done
well. And the way to let Him do His work through us is to fully abide in
Christ by faith that He fills us to overflowing.
A man who learned this secret once said, "I came to Jesus and drank, and I
believe I will never be thirsty again. My life's motto has become 'Not
overwork but overflow,' and it has already made all the difference in my
life."

Secondly, this untitled poem has been on my mind; it's different stanzas taking their turns at resonating with the recent currents of my soul. 
 
I longed to walk along an easy road,
And leave behind the dull routine of home,
Thinking in other fields to serve my God;
But Jesus said, "My time has not yet come."

I longed to sow the seed in other soil,
To be unshackled in the work, and free,
To join with other laborers in their toil;
But Jesus said, "'It's not My choice for thee."

I longed to leave the desert, and be led
To work where souls were sunk in sin and shame,
That I might win them; but the Master said,
"I have not called you, publish here My name."

I longed to fight the battles of my King,
Lift high His standards in the thickest strife;
But my great Captain had me wait and sing
Songs of His conquests in my quiet life.

I longed to leave the hard and difficult sphere,
Where all alone I seemed to stand and wait,
To feel I had some human helper near,
But Jesus had me guard one lonely gate.

I longed to leave the common daily toil,
Where no one seemed to understand or care;
But Jesus said, "I choose for thee this soil,
That you might raise for Me some blossoms rare."

And now I have no longing but to do
At home, or else afar, His blessed will,
To work amid the many or the few;
Thus, "choosing not to choose," my heart is still.
--Selected
Streams in the Desert by L.B. Cowman (September 5th reading)

Freedom

Penned January 11.

I don’t know if I have ever begun a new year with quite the same serene sense of freedom as I encountered in closing 2012 and awakening to 2013. The future is alive with possibilities and adventures unknown, but I fear none of them. I am at peace. I am simply open to whatever may come. Circumstances are by no means calm, everything signals impending changes, imminent transitions, potential chaos and anxiety. Yet it seems as if my soul has found a haven, for I do not feel unsettled by any of it. The Lord is my Shepherd, why should I fear? The Lord, my Hope, is strong and sure. I have a thousand doubts. His Word sustains me; his faithfulness never fails. How thrilling and freeing to find repose in him, to fall with unflinching abandon into the invisible surety of his provision, his wisdom, his timing his grace. My soul finds in him beautiful rest that renews like no sleep ever can. The depths of his comfort are infinite.

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is there is freedom. And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”  2 Corinthians 3:17-18

At Sea

I have been adrift in a sea of unknowns this summer.  Wave after wave of new challenges, griefs, and general frustration has splashed over the edge of my little vessel, relentlessly pitching it toward new hopes then plunging it back down into uncertainty.  I know God is at work, I know He is faithful and true, but my ship is no less buffeted about by waves and wind simply because those things are so. I would steer with all my might if only I had a directional heading, but the arrow on the compass God has provided seems to still be spinning wildly at the moment.

I haven’t been able to think. I haven’t been able to write.  I’ve barely been able to pray. What is there to say, anyway?

Splat!   family & ministry concerns

Slam!   pressing unanswered questions: Where will we live next month?…                         where will we work?…

Tumble!   a miscarriage

Whoosh!   sickness strikes

Slosh!   the car dies

I know this might sound strange to some, but it is times like these when I find the lectionary surprisingly helpful.  Up until a year ago I had never attended a service in the Anglican tradition, so I am still new to its rhythms. And while there’s much that could be said about the place of liturgy in church services, one of the things that I have found profoundly beautiful in my Anglican Christian experience is the congregational collects and prayers that we say together. I like these prayers because they remind me of realities beyond my current storm. Moreover, in saying them, I join in one voice with thousands of brothers and sisters who have sailed rough seas before me and knelt down to utter the self-same words. Most of all, the weekly collects and prayers resonate with my soul because they give voice to the prayers I wish I could pray. They are the words that my jumbled thoughts cannot sort out amidst the sound of crashing waves. When my own mind and heart are too fragmented to formulate what to pray or where to begin, the collects provide a perspective that helps me glimpse truth over the looming swells, and find hope in dark places. 

The collect below is the one in the church calendar for the week that we lost the baby. Its timely reminder of God’s loving and watchful care brought me to tears as I read it after the miscarriage.  He hears, he knows.

                LORD God, you who have prepared for those who love You such good things that surpass our understanding: Pour into our hearts such love towards You that, loving you above all things, we may obtain Your promises, which are greater than we can desire; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

The words of the Prayer of General Thanksgiving invite me to daily embrace the many blessings, both seen and unseen, that God has brought into my human experience.  It reminds me to be humble and to treasure Christ as I live to bring him praise. He is the means of grace and hope of glory.

             Almighty God, Father of all mercies, we your unworthy servants give you humble thanks for all your goodness and loving-kindness to us and to all whom you have made. We bless you for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life; but above all for your immeasurable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory. And, we pray, give us such an awareness of your mercies, that with truly thankful hearts we may show forth your praise, not only with our lips, but in our lives, by giving up ourselves to your service, and by walking before you in holiness and righteousness all our days; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory throughout all ages. Amen.

Ecclesiastes part 6

All you have is the moment – Live it well!

     Kohelet repeatedly reminds his listeners that “no one can fully know or understand God’s plans.”[1]  So instead of filling our lives with anxiety and vain striving in an effort to control what is out of our hands, we ought to accept each moment as a gift from God and act on what he has revealed to us. Each moment of our life under the sun holds a unique and fleeting opportunity to enjoy God’s gifts. DelHousaye and Brewer use the following illustration to convey the gist of Kohelet’s wisdom.

     Picture “a conveyor belt with one apple passing by every twenty-four hours. Either we let it pass because we think there may be a better one coming, or we let it pass because we are distracted by previous ones we’ve enjoyed. Meanwhile, the one apple right in front of you passes untouched and “unenjoyed.” People are usually divided into three categories: Those who only know how to enjoy the past; those who only know how to anticipate the future; and those who have learned the wisdom of enjoying it all by living in the moment! The point is, life is enjoyed in the moment. The wisest thing you can do is to take the biggest bite of every apple that comes your way.[2]

          Kohelet’s message is not communicating a fatalistic or epicurean sentiment, but rather sharing a realistic outlook based on humankind’s mortality. If time under the sun is limited, do not waste it “striving after wind” (4:6). “Remember your Creator – remember that God has given you his gifts for your pleasure. Make the most of them while you have the energy and the vitality.”[3] Act now (“do not be idle”, 11:6), to squeeze the juice out of every moment of life, but do so with the knowledge that God will bring all of one’s actions into judgment (11:9). Finally, Kohelet concludes, “fear God and keep his commandments, because this applies to every person” (12:13). A healthy reverence for God will keep us grateful and content with his good gifts, free us up to enjoy life to its fullest capacity while we still have breath in our bodies, and remind us to live with good sense because we are accountable to God alone in the end.

            The words of another wise man, Walter C. Kaiser, appropriately sum up the core of Kohelet’s message and its ongoing impact today:

[K]oheleth urges acceptance of the grace and joy of life, not pessimism, nihilism, and blind determinism . . . Out of a distorted view of worldliness, wherein every pleasure ordained by God for man’s enjoyment is either denied or begrudgingly used, many have developed a superpious, unhappy, and even miserable existence. This text proclaims liberation to them. Brother and sister: rejoice in God’s good gifts, and ask for his ability to rightfully use them.[4]

“Remember your Creator” and make the most of the hevel that he has provided for you to enjoy.

---

                [1] DelHousaye and Brewer, The Personal Journal of Solomon, 197.

                [2] Ibid, 116.

                [3] Hubbard, Beyond Futility, 119.

                [4] Walter C. Kaiser, Ecclesiastes: Total Life (Chicago: Moody Press, 1979), 101.