ready.

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This space has been so elusive for me over the past year. I’ve wanted to write. I’ve thought about writing. I’ve actually started drafts upon drafts that now sit half-finished, never published. 

I think it all began in the spring of last year when I was plagued with constant fatigue and some other strange symptoms that I just couldn’t shake. Turns out, it was most likely Lyme disease (all clear now, thankfully), but even after feeling “better,” my creative motivation was zapped.

A few months later, I found myself in that notoriously challenging first trimester getting my tail kicked with nausea and fatigue…and just generally feeling less than stellar. 

Now I’m prepping for the fast-approaching arrival of baby number two, and the inescapable instinct to have everything in order tends to outweigh the time it takes me to complete a post. 

Add to those my inclination toward procrastination and perfectionism (which ironically go hand-in-hand if you’ve never noticed before), and I was basically paralyzed. I told myself I was just taking a breather, but that wasn’t entirely true.

In reality, this “break” has been breaking me.

The enemy used this time to start telling me some pretty awful lies: I have nothing to say. No one will read it, anyway. Who do I think I am, trying to help and encourage those around me when I feel so lacking right now? Don’t worry about finishing that draft – it’s no good anyway. Someone else has already said it, and better. Don’t kid yourself- it’s not like you’re a real writer. No one even notices how quiet you’ve been. ON AND ON AND ON. Seriously, I could keep going, but I won’t.

The thing is, whenever I  choose to listen to that contriving little voice (and accept it as truth), I effectively hand over my power and my gift that God has bestowed on me for His glory. In my silence, I let Satan have what is rightfully the Lord’s. (Yuck. So hard to admit.) Have you ever found yourself in that position? Giving up on what God has so clearly spoken into your life? When I see it from that perspective, I know I can’t keep quiet. He has let me know it’s time to reclaim this calling, this space, this writing life. I want to write with honesty, from the hard places, even when it’s easier to just keep quiet. Especially when it’s easier to keep quiet. I want to see the Lord use these pages to speak through me (and to me, amen.)

I am on the cusp of some major life changes happening, and I want (need?) to be able to come here and get grounded again. Tapping across the keyboard and filling up the page feels a little bit like home to me.

For my Christmas present (and birthday, and new baby – ha), my husband bought me a year’s access to an online writing “workshop” through Coffee + Crumbs (one of my very favorite spaces online, full of beautifully honest articles on motherhood), and it has already begun to re-spark my enthusiasm. Also, it doesn’t hurt when your friend gifts you some pretty new notebooks for Christmas…. 🙂 (Sometimes it takes other people to help you find your footing again).

So, here’s to a fresh new year of beginnings. Here’s to sweeping the cobwebs and opening the blinds, even if I’m doing so with squinted and tired eyes. I finally feel ready.

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{ What are you giving back to God in this new year? You may not want to share, and that’s okay, but if so, leave a comment below and I’ll add you to my prayer journal. 

He can make us brave. }

 

 

 

 

The Motherhood Spectrum


It was around 1:00 a.m., and I had been called into work for an exam. Still trying to wake up, I grabbed my badge and my keys and headed to the hospital.
 
After asking the standard questions while I set up my ultrasound machine, I wasn’t especially concerned. But as soon as I put the probe down, everything changed. Even at first glance I knew it wasn’t good, and that night I had the unfortunate duty of confirming to a hopeful mama that yet another one of her babies wasn’t going to make it. 
 
It’s the worst. The absolute hardest part of my job.
 
I left her room quickly, wanting to give her some privacy, but not before hugging her. As I pushed my machine down the ER hallway, I could feel the tears stinging my eyes just thinking about her broken mama heart. 
 
Before becoming a mom myself, I may have thought or even told this woman, “you’ll make a great mother some day.” But now I recognize her spirit and know for certain, she already is one. I saw it in her eyes. She already knows the fierce love, the ache, and the yearning to protect – all familiar ground for a mother. She already has that uncanny maternal instinct of knowing something is wrong, despite prior reassurance from medical professionals. She might not have any babies on this side of heaven, but she is no less a mother than I am. 
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Rather than a binary system – you are or you’re not – I’m finding that motherhood is really more of a spectrum. 

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sunshine & rainbows


I saw this play on a famous quote written on an Urban Outfitters mug, and I catch myself repeating it constantly. “It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, but a good amount of it actually is.” Please don’t be concerned that I get my inspiration from places such as Urban Outfitters. I will explain. (The mug is sold out or I would link up to it…and also buy it for myself.) 

So many applications for this, but motherhood may be the most fitting of all. 

A good amount of motherhood ACTUALLY IS glorious. That’s the secret sauce in this parenting concoction, I’ve decided. I mean, why else would we sign up for this more than once? So much of it is utter chaos and madness and just….insanity. Some of the phrases that exit my mouth are at minimum – ridiculous. “Aven, honey, we do not high five the dog in the face.” And let’s be honest, a good amount of it is also just really, really tough. 

BUT THEN. 

In the midst of an overcast day, we catch a glimpse of sunshine that manages to radiate through the gloom and mundane. The sunshine is blinding it’s so bright. It comes in the form of a gummy baby giggle. Or witnessing their first unsure steps. Or the first unsolicited “I yuh you mommy.” (Actually that last one is definitely a rainbow in my mind. A giant, coloful, unforgettable rainbow.)  These moments – the rays of sunshine and rainbow prisms – shine so brightly, they warm our faces and reflect on our skin and pierce to the depths of our mama hearts. They tuck themselves away to be drawn upon later – a balm for the weary mom’s soul, a sweet memory for reflection at the end of a demanding day, a catalyst to the energy we need to survive the all-nighters. So powerful is this light in our world that it pushes out the dark that has come before and repaints the scene in vibrant color.

If today has been arduous or exhausting or marginally insane for you, just wait for it. Your sunshine is coming. The rainbow is forming. Sometimes the light finds you, and sometimes you have to chase it. Either way, what we find in those bright moments is the promise that mothering is good and important work. HARD work, but SIGNIFICANT. So, so significant. 

And worth every cloudy day. The light always wins.