I wake up groggy, fairly certain that I didn’t sleep more than two hours straight. But tiny feet are running out to the couch to meet me, ready to be scooped up and snuggled.
I start the dance of shifting, making room for and stretching far past what I ever thought I was capable of.
His little voice desperately tells me, ‘I can’t fit, Momma.’
Oh baby boy, there is always a place in my momma arms for you. So we awkwardly maneuver, the fresh-from-heaven little on one side and my newly big boy on the other. And I soak it all in for the few fleeting moments – the sweetness of holding my heart on the outside of my body.
This is the beautiful slow dance before the crazy techno break-dancing begins.
Oh, how this parenting two precious souls has broken me.
From the months upon months of morning sickness to the perinatal depression and anxiety to the debilitating pain of the last trimester to…
The very first time Simon asked, ‘What about me?‘
What about me?
There is not a day that goes by that doesn’t find me on the floor humbled before my God.
I can’t do this, Lord. I’m not qualified. I’m impatient. Short-tempered. Frustrated. Overwhelmed. Exhausted. Yes.
I feel it deep within my soul; this was never supposed to be about what I am capable of on my own.
Why do we, mommas insist on striving on our own? What keeps us from reaching out for help from God, from our spouses, from our family and friends? Pride? Fear?
Probably a little bit of both, but whatever it is we need to lay it down and for help when needed.
It wasn’t until I began to fall towards rock bottom that I realized how silly it was to not ask for help. Especially, how ridiculous it was to try to parent without God.
So we dance. I try to let Him lead. Oh, do I try, but I forget I don’t know the steps like He does. So I wrestle and stumble and fall back down on my knees, once again.
And there is grace for my mess.
Sweet friends, there is grace for yours, too.
It doesn’t matter what you’re struggling with, right now. Whatever it is there is grace.
It’s been six months since I wrote the intro for this post. My littles and I have found our own rhythm. Sometimes we are all dancing to a different beat, but I’ve learned if I keep in step with God, it doesn’t matter what those sweet tiny feet are up to.
There’s grace for that, and I am never dancing alone.
Go love well!
When did you realize that you couldn’t do life alone?