I tiptoe across the wooden planks hoping the creaks won't wake him.
The house sits still. This is where I find peace. Here in the
solitude...in this sharp black my mind slows and the chaos finds it's
place. This is when I usually write, but tonight I have nothing. So I
sit. Still. It doesn't come easy for me. Vulnerable. Exposed - is
how it makes me feel. I don't know why God has woken me. I reminisce
about the miracle of that one who sleeps curled within his crib. The
one I tried not to wake on my quest to this quiet place. The one who
makes me roar with laughter. The one who healed wounds I didn't know
existed.
Then I think of the one I lost a few months ago.
I hang the letters of their name on the wall.
Hope.
I don't want to forget their life.
Even if it was short.
Waiting is not something I do well. Yet, I find myself in the season of waiting. Advent. The first Sunday means HOPE. It came on a day that was a miracle for our family years ago and this year it brings comfort again. For there is always hope in Jesus.
I pray for the others I've cradled against my heart. Most taller than I now. Each one a treasured gift God has entrusted me with. I call out each one by name. Joshua. Allyson. Jonah. Aaron. Audrey. Malakai. I pray for blessings and protection over them. For some to remain strong and for their feet to not slip off the path Jesus has for them. Others...a new heart...for blinded eyes to be opened...wounds to be healed and salvation to be accepted.
Motherhood - it doesn't match that picture I had in my head when the journey started. It's the most rewarding thing on earth. It's hard. Terrifying. Messy. At times it's brought more joy than I knew possible. At other times it shreds my heart. And it has brought me to my knees more than anything else in life.
I sit with nothing to write so I write a list of gifts...graces. The list is ongoing. It's not some Pollyanna approach to life but what gives breath to life. Hard things come. Failures. Disappointments. Loss. I can't control the unfolding of each new chapter but I can control how I frame it - choose to see. I look into the heart of God and I know He is for me. He loves me...always. Just like I love my children...always.
The alarm screams at me much too early. Kai, is awake. His eyes peering atop his bed staring at me with impatience. He's hungry. The day...the chaos it begins. School and chores and dinner and unbelievable amounts of laundry...sick whiny babes....boys arguing...dogs barking and 7 messy people under one roof. Patience wears thin. It's loud and I'm about to implode. I'm learning that when impatience rises I too am hungry. Hungry for the person of peace. Inhale. Exhale. Choose how to frame all this.
I remember the lessons from the night before. As we read for our Jesse tree we spoke about how messed up Jesus' family tree was. How it looked hopeless. How He could have chosen to come through any blood line yet He chose the messy people. His family line shouldn't surprise us. Jesus always came differently...lived differently...died differently than what anyone would have expected. Everything in the kingdom of God is upside down. That's why it's so hard. I question His ways at times. I don't always like the story that unfolds. If I were to tell the truth I would often times write it differently.
But I'm not God.
I don't see the whole picture.
I'm a mess and I have a messy family.
Sometimes I remember they're a gift handpicked by God for me.
It's a blustery cold day but our home is filled with warmth. I'm thankful for these children who test me...teach me...love me. Then - then that one who's on his own calls. It's good to hear his voice but I can tell the illness that took the rest of us has found him too. I want to run over with soup and tea and tuck him into bed and twirl his hair around my finger while reading him stories... like I used to when he was little. Like I did this morning with Kai. He's a man but he's still my child. Then - it comes. Slowly. More is broken than just his body. His voice shaking. My son - he's going to be a daddy. It takes me back to the day I found I was to have him. He's afraid. Afraid of not being enough. I understand. What I know is he won't be enough. None of us are. We are fallible creatures all in need of Jesus. That's okay. Jesus is more than enough. So, for this tiny baby dropped right in the middle of messy I'm thankful. God knows what he's doing. I may not understand but I do know that this baby... our grandchild is suppose to be here. In that I have hope. Peace. Rest.
Until then...
Jessie
Then I think of the one I lost a few months ago.
I hang the letters of their name on the wall.
Hope.
I don't want to forget their life.
Even if it was short.
Waiting is not something I do well. Yet, I find myself in the season of waiting. Advent. The first Sunday means HOPE. It came on a day that was a miracle for our family years ago and this year it brings comfort again. For there is always hope in Jesus.
I pray for the others I've cradled against my heart. Most taller than I now. Each one a treasured gift God has entrusted me with. I call out each one by name. Joshua. Allyson. Jonah. Aaron. Audrey. Malakai. I pray for blessings and protection over them. For some to remain strong and for their feet to not slip off the path Jesus has for them. Others...a new heart...for blinded eyes to be opened...wounds to be healed and salvation to be accepted.
Motherhood - it doesn't match that picture I had in my head when the journey started. It's the most rewarding thing on earth. It's hard. Terrifying. Messy. At times it's brought more joy than I knew possible. At other times it shreds my heart. And it has brought me to my knees more than anything else in life.
I sit with nothing to write so I write a list of gifts...graces. The list is ongoing. It's not some Pollyanna approach to life but what gives breath to life. Hard things come. Failures. Disappointments. Loss. I can't control the unfolding of each new chapter but I can control how I frame it - choose to see. I look into the heart of God and I know He is for me. He loves me...always. Just like I love my children...always.
The alarm screams at me much too early. Kai, is awake. His eyes peering atop his bed staring at me with impatience. He's hungry. The day...the chaos it begins. School and chores and dinner and unbelievable amounts of laundry...sick whiny babes....boys arguing...dogs barking and 7 messy people under one roof. Patience wears thin. It's loud and I'm about to implode. I'm learning that when impatience rises I too am hungry. Hungry for the person of peace. Inhale. Exhale. Choose how to frame all this.
I remember the lessons from the night before. As we read for our Jesse tree we spoke about how messed up Jesus' family tree was. How it looked hopeless. How He could have chosen to come through any blood line yet He chose the messy people. His family line shouldn't surprise us. Jesus always came differently...lived differently...died differently than what anyone would have expected. Everything in the kingdom of God is upside down. That's why it's so hard. I question His ways at times. I don't always like the story that unfolds. If I were to tell the truth I would often times write it differently.
But I'm not God.
I don't see the whole picture.
I'm a mess and I have a messy family.
Sometimes I remember they're a gift handpicked by God for me.
It's a blustery cold day but our home is filled with warmth. I'm thankful for these children who test me...teach me...love me. Then - then that one who's on his own calls. It's good to hear his voice but I can tell the illness that took the rest of us has found him too. I want to run over with soup and tea and tuck him into bed and twirl his hair around my finger while reading him stories... like I used to when he was little. Like I did this morning with Kai. He's a man but he's still my child. Then - it comes. Slowly. More is broken than just his body. His voice shaking. My son - he's going to be a daddy. It takes me back to the day I found I was to have him. He's afraid. Afraid of not being enough. I understand. What I know is he won't be enough. None of us are. We are fallible creatures all in need of Jesus. That's okay. Jesus is more than enough. So, for this tiny baby dropped right in the middle of messy I'm thankful. God knows what he's doing. I may not understand but I do know that this baby... our grandchild is suppose to be here. In that I have hope. Peace. Rest.
Until then...
Jessie
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