Wow- it has been a long time since I've posted here!
Today was such a weird day. My sister was baptized at her church in a nearby town, which was a TREMENDOUS blessing to see. It is always so moving to see people walking in obedience to God and backing that up with such a public declaration of faith. And it is also always a blessing to go to sister churches and meet/reacquaint with other believers. Even just the little things done differently- the music, the order of the worship, and the decor in the sanctuary- can put new energy into worship.
Of course, that wasn't quite my experience today. My baby is a very good baby most of the time, and a terribly rotten baby the rest of the time. Today was the latter. Combine an unfamiliar setting, post-vacation exhaustion, and a forgotten pacifier, and I spent the entirety of Sunday School and morning service trying desperately to sooth a VERY fussy child. It reminded me of the days when she had colic and we would bounce and rock and sush her until we were at our emotional breaking points.
Thankfully my husband took over so that I could see the baptism and participate in communion, which was refreshing and wonderful.
I also got to hold an adorable eight week old baby today, who was so small I was convinced she must have been a premature newborn. Turns out she was a whooping eleven pounds... how quickly I'd forgotten just how tiny and fragile they are at the beginning! I felt like a total ninconpoop holding her, like I had no idea what to do.
All of this got me thinking... maybe the arrival of baby number two is going to be just a bit more stressful than I might have first thought. This pregnancy has so far been devoid of any stress or apprehension whatsoever, and I already feel bonded to the little being swimming around inside me (something that didn't happen with Katara until days AFTER she was born). But there is a practical element of this addition to our family that is going to leave me twice- maybe three times- as exhausted and emotional as I already am. Today the weight of all that I'm giving up to be a mother is hitting me a bit harder than usual, and I can't help but wonder what other sacrifices are around the corner.
I think one thing I am learning is that I can no longer depend on anyone else to lead me to God. My husband does a wonderful job of leading us in family devotions, and I hear great preaching most Sundays, but the fact of the matter is I can't always be fully there when I have a baby to take care of, and even when the baby is taken care of sometimes I'm just not quite mentally or emotionally able to take in what I'm hearing. This means I have to seize every moment when I am free and clear-headed to go to God on my own, to study the scripture and maybe revisit some of the texts and topics that came up in other venues.
I have also been thinking a lot of the peace that comes from doing the right thing. When I am stressed and hormonal and exhausted beyond the reach of rational thought, my tendency is to throw myself upon the nearest source of strength- usually my husband- and look for any way out of the load I'm carrying. But usually that only leaves me feeling more miserable. It is far better to pray for strength, if not to triumph victoriously then only to plod on till the end of that moment, hour, or day without sinning. Asking myself what my Lord would do if He were in my shoes can spare me a lot of future regret. And at the end of it all, I may be a little more tired than I would be if I'd squirmed out from under it- but I will have that peace that passes understanding, which is far more important than any lightening of the load.
Not to say that a little load lightening is always the wrong thing! Or that it's not sometimes necessary to stop all together and admit that I am weak- maybe even to cry. As long as I am willing to get back up afterward and plod on!
