I broke down the other night while rocking Wyatt and singing to him before bed. It’s a song I’ve sang a million times over the last decade or so, in different countries and different seasons of life.
Maybe I don’t have the strength
Maybe I don’t have the faith
You brought me here in 40 years
When I know this trip should take a week
I barely make it past the first line. I struggle a word at a time as Wyatt tries to stick his fingers up my nose. My usually crazy busy almost-2-year-old has wanted to cuddle all day. He puked all over me earlier. My 29-week belly feels tight and cramp-y. I am emotional. I am just exhausted.
I’ve shed my tears and shed my blood
I’ve been held ransomed by the flood
The winter steals my songs away
In all of this I come undone
It’s hardly March and this year feels endless. Snowstorms, sickness, more snowstorms, broken cars, more sickness. Worry and stress. More snow. Endless piles and heaps. Anxiety about driving on the roads, raising wild children, adding a 3rd kid to our family, my mom having heart surgery, what the future will bring.
Stop.
Breathe.
Whisper.
When you walk through the water I will be with you.
When you pass through the rivers these waves they will not overtake you
When you walk on the fire those flames they will not touch you.
You’re mine.
Slowly, my voice stops cracking and gains some strength.
I sing until I can count my blessing again.
I sing until I can feel it.
I sing until I can believe it.
All the tiny miracles throughout my day….
Everytime I put groceries in the fridge or lay down in a warm bed. Every bill that gets paid. A friend that calls or texts because they really care.
My boy, laying is head on my chest.
My girl, making us toast by herself.
My other baby, moving healthily inside of me.
My dog, laying her chin gently on my growing belly, all knowing.
My husband, always passionate and giving everything he has.
Immeasurable blessings I lose track of and forget to see in the middle of the chaos.
Motherhood is full of moments too raw to capture. I reach the end of myself more times daily than I can count.
I kiss Wyatt’s toddler forehead and think for the millionth time in the past 5 years,
“This is the hardest and best thing I’ve ever done.”
Don’t ever let me forget, it is also the most important thing.
Facing boring and bad days bravely, even when they seem to pile up endlessly like mountains of snow.
Knowing I can walk through it with Your strength. My legs and my heart get stronger. I can squint and see the beauty of the sunlight glinting off the icicles.
The hope for joy in the midst of cracker crumbs and screaming fits and throw-up and all the mess of motherhood.
The warmth and peace available to me when I just let go of control and breathe in the Love I have found.
You are mine,
You are mine.
(Enter the Worship Circle- Mine)
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I love the pictures you paint with words – truth. Thank you.