I awoke unaided by the alarm this morning for the first time in months; my eyes focused, greeted by the dim austerity of our master bedroom (which is the only room in the house deserving of such a subdued description -- the rest of the place is as ostentatious as Mae West). The light was new, and the homefront peaceful and still with nary a loping Dane or frolicking pug in sight.
I looked to my right, where our daughter was sleeping contentedly, all rosy-pale with her mouth pursed like Cupid, wrapped in a soft pink swaddler. I looked to my left, where few spikes of dark hair peeking from the border of our quilt confirmed that my husband was floating through the dawn with the consciousness level of a paperweight.
I was alone to spend a few moments as I pleased.
As most new mothers will tell you, this is a rare occasion. So I did what I've been meaning to do for two weeks -- I located the verse and chapter locations to some scriptures that have been rolling around in my pinball brain, fortifying my transition into motherhood.
When offices refuse to return phone calls, the mail bin is a jack-in-the-box of medical bills, the caffeine in coffee is no longer effective, my hair is a neglected knot of snarls, my knees scream at the thought of another stair climb with baby and laundry in tow, and three dogs in the house is just too much slobber, hair, and kibble underfoot, I fortify my heart (and my joints) with inarguable wisdom:
"He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength.”
- Isaiah 40:29
“She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness. Her children arise up, and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praiseth her. Many daughters have done virtuously, but thou excellest them all. Favour is deceitful, and beauty is vain: but a woman that feareth the LORD, she shall be praised. Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates."
- Proverbs 31:27-31
....and just when I think it will behoove me to trade precious hours of recuperative rest in favor of doing one more load of burp rags and fret over frustrations evoked by pressing commitments:
" It is vain for you to rise up early, to sit up late, to eat the bread of sorrows: for so he giveth his beloved sleep.”
It does you no good to disregard bedtime, He reminds me. Blue is not your color, kid. At least not under your eyes. Just ask for my help, and I'll lead you to steadiness and rest. And when it's time to face that toppling pile, I'll strengthen you sufficiently to see your task completed.
It's all in His hands, anyway -- the laundry, the next "wholesome" activity begging precious time better spent attending to my child and my household, the medical professionals who choose not to follow through on their promises to follow up on Ava's case....
Shh.
Coffee. Sunrise. Stillness surrounded in love and comfort.
I'm butt-kickin' busy, but I thank God that I'm absorbed with the work of supporting my household and those in it. It is truly the most satisfying occupation I have ever had. I see how my family prospers when I lay down my ambitions in order to serve them, and I've noticed how the restlessness that used to drive me to go out and therapeutically shop or get crazy haircuts has matured into a contentedness derived from recognizing that truly resonant transformation is achieved by sacrificial love.
My husband, though incredibly busy, seems thrilled to come home at the end of the work day. We have time to sit on the porch and talk. Dinner's ready. The house smells spiffy. He knows that he won't have to Febreeze his least dirty pair of socks in the morning, because most of his clothes are clean and put up. His daughter is clean, fed, and so excited to see him that her eyes sliver like half-moons and she smiles back at him so hard, you could practically hear it with your eyes closed.
Even though she struggles to achieve her strength and coordination related milestones, I can already see the benefits of every day we spend singing and babbling to each other face-to-face. (We think she has her own jargon, consisting mostly of celebrity names like Mary Steenburgen and nonsense words like "apple soup".) To our amazement, her initial therapy evaluations revealed no lag in Ava's communicative or cognitive abilities. In fact, even more shockingly, she was found to be at a four month old level at three and a half months. This was tremendous affirmation to us that the constant parental interaction and attention to her sleep/eat/play schedule has paid off.
It was a tremendous leap of faith for us to let me stay at home with our daughter -- one that we hadn't foreseen when we planned to have a family. But now that I've taken the organizational skills and self-discipline I gleaned from my last five years at the bank and have applied them to running a household, I can see exactly why The Father led me down the path to learn what I did, when I did. If our daughter had arrived five years earlier, I would've been a hopeless goose. I'm so grateful for the example of frugal, godly mothers and homemakers that surround me both here and within my family.
Thank you for living out your ministry, gals. If you've ever noticed me tagging along behind you, buzzing like a gnat with a thousand and one questions concerning how you do the everyday things you do, consider that a confirmation that I'm talking about you!
