My Ode To Motherhood: How My Story Surprises Me Still

Tiny blue lines

One moment changed everything

My body ached and grew

As our hearts, too, ached and grew

For one tiny new life 

The one we always wanted

Who surprised us still

Two weeks overdue and she arrived

Face blue, tiny body shaking 

Expectant joy turned to hopeless fear

So many what ifs and what nows

We prayed and pleaded and waited

For the one we always wanted

Who surprised us once more

We planned and we prepared

We checked off lists and we read books

But we didn't expect this

The waiting rooms and machines beeping

With one sick baby girl

And two hearts breaking

Two weeks later and the sun returns

We walk out those doors one last time

Her bundled up in her car seat

And our hearts mending

Heading home as two become three

It's what we always wanted

But still we are surprised

Six months later and another set of tiny blue lines

We celebrate and we wait and we wonder

How our hearts can make room for more

And why I still feel so broken

When all I ever wanted

Still catches me by surprise

Three weeks early, our three becomes four

His tiny lungs struggle and again we wait

In the same room, with the same machines

The tears fall at another unexpected bend

And the road we walk becomes more uncertain

Until one week more and we make our way home

A family of four, healthy but still broken

I ache and I break 

And I fall so hard I don't know where I am

His arms reach into my darkness

The man who said "I do"

In sickness and in health

In good times and in bad

And together we find the way out

To healing and wholeness

And a beautiful mess that took us by surprise

Three years later, two little feet more

Waltz into our home and never stop moving

He laughs and we mend

And I wonder at His perfect timing

And His good gifts that surprise me still

Then one year and one little life more

We rejoice and we praise

The One who gives...

And the One who takes away

As these tiny blue lines begin to fade

And our Hope is born 

Straight into His arms

We grieve the story we never expected

 And the little one we always wanted

Two months later, the grief still fresh

And two tiny blue lines more

We wait with breaths held deep

And hearts still unsure

Trusting and praying and resting

In a peace we don't understand

And a God who knows

I smile as tiny feet kick and move

As my womb stretches and grows

And I count gifts, one little moment at a time

Because I know every unexpected and unknown

That took me by surprise

And landed me here

A mother of four, soon to be five

Arms still aching and empty 

For the one missing

But filled to overflowing 

With the three still here

And the one littlest surprise

We never expected at all

 

{Bigger Picture Poetry) When Storms Come

photo credit

Thunder rolls and rain falls

Sirens wail and teachers corral

Students huddle and people pray

Fear grips and panic overwhelms

When the storms come.



Waves crash and fisherman stumble

The storm rages and the boat shakes.

But Jesus sleeps and they wonder.

Why the storms come?



Does He not hear?

Does He not see?

Does He not care?

When the storms come.



Jesus is awakened and He arises.

He rebukes and the storm relents.

Faith is tested and He answers.

When the storms come.



Even the sea obeys

And the wind bows down

For He speaks and so it is.

When the storms come.



So why wonder?

And why fear?

When the storms come...

He is still there.



The storm calms and the sun returns.

But buildings crumbled and people perished.

And where was He?

When the storms came?



We grieve and we fear.

The future unknown, the path uncertain.

But He knows and He cares.

Even in the storms.



The outcome may still hurt,

But He is still God.

I don't understand today,

but He already knows tomorrow.



So, when the storms come,

I will rest in peace and hope

For the rainbow that comes

After the storm.



And in the God who stays

Even in the storms.



 

{Bigger Picture Poetry} Truth Magnified

photo credit: Jonas' Designs

I bought myself a swim suit today,

A task I've dreaded in the past.

Because that dressing room mirror?

It magnifies every imperfect flaw

And brings back every insecure lie

Ever spoken to my heart.

But today truth won

And grace spoke,

Of curves and stripes

That bore precious gifts

Of battles fought and pains endured

That brought forth hope and healing.

So that mirror today?

It magnified Him

In an unexpected peace

And security found

In the arms of love

Who calls me His own

And graciously gives all things.

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs for this month's Bigger Picture Poetry prompt.

 

{Bigger Picture Poetry} Where I Belong

Sometimes His voice is loud and clear

I hear it like my own heart beating.

I grab hold and hang on for dear life,

Knowing not if, but when trials come,

I will need to remember His voice,

When He seems so far away

And I wonder where He's gone.

Because I know my past

All the times I've failed 

And given up hope.

The truth is He never leaves.

Even in the darkness,

Even in the storms,

Even in the chaos,

He is there.

It's my own voice that's too loud,

With all its fears and anxieties,

Drowning out His.

Lies take root and grow

Like weeds strangling truth.

But even then?

He is there.

Sometimes it takes a weekend away,

Without the distractions and realities

Filling my days with more and more,

For me to hear His again.

Sitting among sisters who become friends,

My heart open and tears falling,

Soaking up living water,

And breathing in fresh air,

As His words nourish and quench.

The truth is He never leaves,

It's me who runs, tripping and falling,

Into the eye of the storm,

Instead of head first into His arms.

Always He is there, waiting and loving.

Even when I stray,

Even when I doubt,

Even when I disappoint,

He is there.

Sometimes, I need a reminder,

And a gentle nudge back

Into arms of love,

Long suffering and steadfast.

And so I run head first back

Into arms of love,

Surrendering and repenting,

  

Planting my feet firm and sure,

Right where I belong.

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs for a month of poetry.

 

{Bigger Picture Poetry} On A Rainy Day

photo credit: Savio Sebastian

The day begins in darkness,

rain pitter-pattering down

drenching our yard,

spilling into our basement,

and flooding my heart.

I feel it deep inside.

A longing, a waiting,

a thirsting, a quenching,

a needing to be filled.

I wake in the quiet darkness,

fill my cup with morning coffee

and fill my soul with morning truth.

Words pour in,

filling to overflowing,

truths mending

and grace healing.

Learning and growing,

new life planted

with roots deep

and soil rich,

ready to begin,

a light piercing the dark.

Sharing poetry with Bigger Picture Blogs.

 

{Bigger Picture Poetry} New Memories Blossom

 Photo credit: luz

It was the day after Easter,

the Monday after hope was found

in an empty tomb

and a risen Savior.

My heart ached

for the one I loved

who never rose again,

but whose body lay cold

beneath the dirt and the grass

and the stone that showed

a mere dash where he

had once breathed

and danced

and laughed

and lived.

Three years later,

my heart still breaks,

sometimes fresh as the day

he breathed his last.

I fight for memories

of joy and love

and life well lived.

And wonder when

it will stop being so hard.

It was the day after Easter

that our firstborn

the daughter who is so much like me

and yet so much like her,

the one who dances and sings

as though the whole world is her stage,

whispers to her daddy

a hunger and longing

to know Truth and grace

and to unwrap the gift

found in the blood of the cross

and the joy of the empty tomb.

She wants to enjoy that gift,

to open her heart

and let Him in,

to confess with her mouth

and believe in her heart

that He is not just God and Son,

but Savior and Messiah.

As new life blossoms

on trees waking from their winter slumber

and snow melting gives way to green grass,

new memories blossom

in a four year old girl

unwrapping the most precious gift

and claiming it as her own.

Hope covers the still aching wounds

and mends broken hearts

as tears give way to dancing

and we join angels in singing

for one more lost sheep

found and redeemed

and forever His.

Linking up with Bigger Picture Blogs to find meaning in the word plant with Poetry.