I am primarily a doer. I like to take care of myself. I like to care for my family. But these past few
weeks, months really, have been flying by with not a lot of doing. Being hugely pregnant most of the summer limited me. Forced me to sit more than stand. To drive when I wanted to walk. To take help. And I gained something lovely: the ability to just take the time.
We had a scare at 36 weeks. I had contractions and we headed into the hospital. I had a c-section scheduled for 2 weeks later because of past issues, but we were so not ready to have the baby that night. It made me pause and reassess. To acknowledge that nothing I was doing around the house was more important than just sitting, resting, and letting that baby grow.
And then Jackson was born. No crises, no emergencies.
I can't even begin to share the magic of being able to just welcome our son. To be able to walk into the operating room. To be awake and aware when he was born. To be able to snuggle him. To witness his sisters meeting him. To come home and just continue to sit. To have it be sunny and light and peaceful. To just be able to look at his face and fall in love. It was beautiful. A new story for us. A beautiful chapter.
I wanted to bottle those days up before the busyness of life started up again.
As the weeks pass, I've learned that sitting on the back porch rubbing my baby's peach fuzz head, this is peace. Deciding to sway a few extra moments because he's sad is time well spent. I can sit with him on my lap every evening, looking in his eyes and smiling. Noticing how the cute pjs he fit in last week are now making a sausage shaped boy: such a blessing.
Take time. Absorb the season you are in. Dwell in moments. It can be so obvious when they are young, but it's happening even as they grow. Look at your children. Do you really see them? See who they are and who they are becoming?
With Luke's gut wrenching post yesterday, this, which I'd written up Sunday night still excited and joyful at getting to know Luke and Brittany’s new little one, is such a stark contrast. But the idea of taking time is equally important in seasons of grief. Take time to pause. To acknowledge the loss, be it a life, a sickness, or even a loss of freedom. In our spin-as- fast-as-you-can world, sit. Let it sink in and allow Christ to meet you there and begin the healing work.
Look. See. Talk. Be present in the moment. Take some time. Sometimes, life is hard. And sometimes, life is beautiful.
Until next time,