Sleeping Through the Night
Holding patterns, seasons of motherhood, bittersweet contentment, and Psalm 131
It sometimes feels like seasons will never change, that we are caught in a holding pattern that will not end.
But seasons always change. And what seems like circling around and never arriving is built into the course of every life.
This morning, I woke up at 5:45 with a keen awareness that the day was breaking. And in the dark and silence of dawn, I realized that a season ended.
I slept through the night for the first time since our baby was born, 20 months ago. The turning of this year marks the first time in almost 16 years that I am not pregnant or nursing a baby. My womb is not a house for a coming child. For the first time, my physical body is not urgently, ever-presently needed. I could spend the night away without it causing a catacysmic event. I could take medicine or supplements considering only how it affects my own health and not the health of another.
I remember when I was pregnant with our third baby, wide-eyed, doing the math and thinking how many children we might have if we continued at the rate we started. And now, here I am, with eight children on this earth and one little life we never knew in heaven, and I am amazed at how God has carried me through the changing seasons of motherhood.
This may be a pause, or it may be final. I don’t know if we will have the joy and struggle of bringing another baby into this world. But this new season, however brief or lasting it may be, is causing me to pause and quietly reflect on the beauty and mystery of walking with God and living an ordinary of life.
I thought my life was about something else. That I would get through the years of birth and babies and move into what had always felt like the most important calling of my life. And here I am, watching these beautiful children grow into the people God created them to be. All those years where it felt like the plane of purpose was circling without a place to land, and I find that it has been the most important part of my journey so far.
I am starting this day with a bittersweet contentment. Leaning into the beauty of it, resting my restlessness, not asking questions about the future, but resting in the arms of God with a soul that is calm, quiet, and at peace.
“My heart is not proud, Lord, my eyes are not haughty; I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me. But I have calmed and quieted myself, I am like a weaned child with its mother; like a weaned child I am content.” (Psalm 131:1-2)
Love to all of you. Hoping and praying you find contentment in whatever season this day presents to you.
From The Sacred Everyday this week:
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I hear you on the resting in your restlessness... I don't know what our future holds, at all... but I know who holds the future. It's like a futuristic time capsule that gets opened one layer at a time but instead of revealing the past it reveals the new present. What will be revealed? We all wonder... In the meantime, "He restores my soul" and "my cup runneth over" May the peace and love of Christ be with you all.