Not On My Own Understanding

The days are growing longer, my body more weary by the day, as this littlest one stretches and outgrows my womb.  I'm ready for her to be here...and yet I'm not.

My mind wanders, as it usually does when I am physically tired and there are too many unknowns looming ahead.  I don't like this not knowing.  I want to plan, to know, to be prepared. 

But only God knows when and how this littlest one will arrive.  And sometimes, that truth is hard for this planner to swallow.

As my husband packed up the van Saturday morning to take our four year old mountain biking on some nearby trails, I tried to ignore the anxious thoughts crowding my mind by loading up the car with my firstborn and our not-so-much-a-baby-but-still-my-baby youngest son for a trip to the fabric store. 

I smiled at their silly banter and their smiles that always melt my heart...and then my four year old, usually the biggest comedian in our home, caught me so off guard with wisdom far beyond his years.

"Mommy! He's going to take care of you!" he said in a sing-song voice as he continued to bounce back and forth. 

"Who is?" I asked, completely surprised by a near serious statement from the mouth of my silliest son.

"God is!" he said with complete confidence. 

My anxious thoughts stilled and my heart grew calmer as I remembered the simplest truth that I too often forget.  Funny that it took my four year old to remind me of what I already knew...and how my own words to him the night before as he struggled to fall asleep were words I needed to hear myself.

The next day, still weary, and feeling the emotional toll of saying goodbye to dear friends, the anxious thoughts returned, stronger and harder than the day before.  I wept in my husband's arms, the tears coming deep and wide as I tried to put into words the turmoil in my soul. 

"Do you trust God to take care of our baby?" my husband whispered, holding my head up so I could look into his eyes and really hear his words. 

"Do you really trust Him?" he repeated, when I could barely make out a hesitant "yes" through the tears.

"Sometimes...I think I know in my head...but my heart is at war with my head." I said, as the storm began to calm and I realized the truth I was wrestling with all along. 

I say I believe He will take care of me, of my children, of our unborn baby, of every single one of our needs...but do I really trust Him? 

The closer we get to my due date, the more the memories flood: long, difficult labors, tears of frustration and defeat, monitors beeping and doctors whispering, my arms aching to hold our firstborn...our second-born, the waiting rooms and NICU stays, the sleepless nights filled with what ifs and fears beyond our control...the littlest one gone too quickly from my womb, the friends whose stories were far different than they had expected or hoped for, the babies missing from their mother's arms. 

Motherhood is never a guarantee, no matter how many milestones we pass.  I know too well how many ways "everything will be okay" has been one big fat lie. 

But I also know how many ways "God will take care of you" has always, always been the only truth I can cling too in a sea of unknowns.  Never once has He left my side.  Never once has He been surprised.  Never once has He given up on me.  Never once has He stopped loving, stopped caring, stopped working all things together for good.

As I lay in bed last night, He brought these words to mind, words I've heard and memorized over and over...but, somehow, they became more alive and real to me more than any other time in my life.

Trust in the LORD with all your heart,
and do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge him,
and he will make straight your paths.

(Proverbs 3:5-6)

I held onto the second line of words for a moment longer as He whispered truth deep into my wayward heart: "do not lean on your own understanding".  There are so many things I don't understand...and yet I try.  I ponder and I wonder and I wrestle over and over in my mind...and still I don't understand.

I don't understand why there are so many messy pieces to my story.  I don't understand why it hasn't been easier.  I don't understand why some babies live...and some babies die.  I don't understand why storms happen and why He doesn't always calm the storms.  I don't understand why I wrestle with intense emotions and a heart that feels so deep and wide. 

His ways are far above my own and no matter how long I wrestle with understanding, I will never come close.   

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts.

(Isaiah 55:8-9)

And again, He reminds me:

Whoever trusts in his own mind is a fool,
but he who walks in wisdom will be delivered.

(Proverbs 28:26)

I'm a fool every time I listen to the anxious thoughts and allow them to consume me...but God never gives up on me and He's always there to take me back in His arms.  He has already given me far more than I deserve and when I simply rest in Him, no matter how much I want to wrestle with the unknowns and try to understand the "why's", He will deliver me from the prison of my own mind.  

And so, today, with mercies anew and grace that knows no bounds, I will rest in the One who knows far more than me and the One who has already proven faithful, time and time again.

You keep him in perfect peace
whose mind is stayed on you,
because he trusts in you.
Trust in the LORD forever,
for the LORD GOD is an everlasting rock.

(Isaiah 26:3-4) 

 

A Letter to Our Rainbow Baby

To my sweet littlest one, still tucked safely inside my womb, growing and moving more with each new day,

How can I put in to words just how much you mean to me...to us?  I want you to always know how your story began, even though some of the pieces are hard to say or write.  Because there's so much power in sharing our stories and there's beauty even in the broken pieces. 

And you, precious one, are already so beautiful. 

Your story took me by surprise, my heart still grieving the one gone too soon from my womb.  I will always miss her, even though she was only here for eight short weeks, because she is woven into the fabric of our family and she cannot be forgotten.  We named her Hope and I like to imagine that the two of you would have been someday holding hands and running through life together, the best of friends and the closest of companions. 

Some people have told me you wouldn't be here if we hadn't lost her, but I just can't grasp that as reality.  Our Hope was very much loved and wanted...just as much as you.  I wonder often if she was still here...would we be missing you without knowing it?  Or would our story have still included you, just without the storm and tears and loss?  I don't know and sometimes the hard to understand pieces of our stories hurt so much.

The only way to make sense of any of it is to rest, burdens laid down and let go at the feet of the only One who knows and understands all our yesterdays, todays, and tomorrows.  He is the One who formed you and knit you together in my womb, long before we even knew you were here.  It was almost nine weeks before we saw two tiny blue lines that announced your coming arrival, but already He was writing your story.  He goes before and behind, hemming you in on all sides, and, even when it doesn't make sense, He is still good, so very good. 

Because He knew we needed you before we even knew we did.  I cried a mix of joy and fear when I saw those tiny blue lines.  I was afraid to lose you too, afraid to love too much because sometimes love hurts.  But I couldn't stop myself, no matter how hard I tried.  My love for you, without even seeing your face and long before I first felt your tiny kicks, simply takes my breath away.  You are a part of me and no matter how your story unfolds, you will always be my daughter and I will always be your mother. 

My body is stretching as your body grows and we laugh at the way your kicks already bounce across my belly, moving your daddy's hand or the book resting gently on my lap.  We wonder what you will look like and we imagine what it will be like to have your tiny fingers wrapped around our own.  We are secretly calling you by name already in our home, your name falling so sweetly off the lips of your big sister and two big brothers who are so excited to meet you. 

Our bedroom is piled high with clothes carefully washed and folded and waiting to wrap you in the warmth of a love that surprises us still.  There are diapers and blankets and toys and gifts already chosen or carefully pieced together just for you.  There are five of us here and one awaiting us in heaven, but still you are our missing piece.  No one can ever replace you...and you are far from a replacement for the one we will always be missing.  You are loved and wanted and cherished already just for being you.

So, you see, dear one, your story is complicated and messy already, but still there is beauty.  You are our rainbow after the storm, a reminder of the faithfulness and promises of a God who is never surprised and never forsakes.  He brought you here for such a time as this and He has a unique and wonderful purpose for your life.  I want you to remember where you came from and how your story began so you can chase away whatever doubts or fears may come, knowing that He has already written all the days set before you and He is good always and in all ways.

And always I want you to know that you are loved and our family needs you, just as you are.

I love you, little one.


 

Five Minute Friday: Joy

Sometimes, I lie awake at night, wondering and doubting.

I don't understand all the circumstances beyond our control.

Flutters in my womb bring a smile to my face, but still there is pain.

How do you explain the tug of war in my heart?

To understand His ways when nothing makes sense?

I know He is here, in the midst of the storm.

But I sometimes wonder why He doesn't simply calm the storm, instead of letting it rage.

I can do nothing...but fall before Him weeping, bowing the knee before the One who knows and hears and understands far more than me.

Somehow, even in the pain and the doubt and the wonder, I hear Him whisper.

Though there is pain in the night, joy comes in the morning.

Joy comes in watching my belly and the tiny flutters grow stronger and bigger every day.

Joy comes in watching the good He can make out of any mess.

Joy comes in watching the way He sprinkles little gifts of mercy and grace and His love that is steadfast and faithful.

Joy comes in knowing that even when it doesn't make sense to me, it makes perfect sense to Him.

I don't understand, but He does.

And so I rest, my eyes drooping as the doubts and wonder quiet and my soul finds rest in Him. 

Joining Lisa Jo and the community of Five Minute Friday writers today.

The Sacred Dance of Grief & Joy

The moment we knew a new little life was being knit together in my womb, the fear set in.  I was afraid to embrace and fall in love, because what if?  But the very next moment, even as I voiced the fear out loud, I knew I had to make a choice to walk in freedom instead of bondage. 

It's not an easy road to walk and it's not always a straight path.  I find myself holding back, waiting for the moment I can breathe again knowing everything will be okay.  But there really are no guarantees.  I don't know what tomorrow will bring and, really, all I have is today.

I couldn't stop myself from falling in love with this little one even if I tried.  But I also can't stop myself from grieving the one gone too soon.  It's such a sacred dance. 

One moment I'm back in that moment, my heart breaking all over again as I remember how I delivered our tiny baby Hope alone at home.  I can feel the emptiness where she should be, even as my womb grows with new life.  I could have a dozen more children, but not a single one will ever fill the empty place she left behind. 

Even as I grieve, I feel a tiny flutter in my womb, a reminder that new life is growing and that every storm really does run out of rain.  My daughter giggles as she pats my belly and I smile as we thank God for the baby whose presence is a most precious gift.  I begin to dream about the day this little one is laid in my arms and I whisper my love that grows with each new day.

Still, as I embrace one life, I can't forget the one who will never fill our home with laughter and life.  I wonder how to honor our baby Hope at the same time I embrace this new life in my womb.  My arms ache to hold a newborn baby and some days seem to move much too slowly.  But then there are days when I wish time would slow down, because I don't know how to dance this dance with grace and beauty. 

Some days I'm simply a mess, tears of joy mixed with tears of sorrow.  I'm exhausted with the weight of it all and I don't know how to take one more step...until I remember again what it means to walk in freedom. 

So I fall to my knees again, whispering to the only One who can carry me through how I need Him every hour of every day.  As I pray, He covers me with the peace I need and I wonder why I forget to run to Him before I'm a mess of tears.  The only way to embrace the beauty and gift of today when the future is so uncertain is to keep my eyes fixed on Him...and I'm so grateful He waits so patiently for me to remember.

"In peace, I will both lie down and sleep; 

for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety." 

(Psalm 4:8)