I had one girl and two boys. I was about to have my fourth baby. I had chosen NOT to find out the sex of the baby, but desperately wanted a sister for my oldest.
.
You see, I had been the only girl and had always wanted a sister myself. No matter how much begging I did with my mom, no more babies were to be had.
.
When the doctor said, “It’s a girl,” my heart leapt for joy and I thought my “big” dream had come true and my most earnest prayer answered.
.
Little did I know that something much “bigger” was on the horizon. The birth of this baby girl became the starting point of a now 21-year journey of healing for me.
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Her sparkly eyes drew me close, as if she could see right into my soul.
I had never before been able to open my heart without pause.
.
She was unconditional love wrapped in a tiny bundle of flesh and bones.
I had never before been able to receive love without restriction.
.
As she grew, her child-like wisdom shocked me in the best ways.
I had never before been able to move out of formulaic thinking.
.
KNOWN.
LOVED.
WISDOM.
.
Three crucial pieces to a puzzle that had long been missing in my life.
.
As I write, this young lady stands on the precipice of her first “legal” glass of wine, a symbol of celebration for “big” things!!
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Yes. My “big” dream did come true that September morning, the birth of a sister for my oldest, and I will lift a glass as I remember.
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But God had a BIGGER and BETTER dream for me, an “immeasurably more” kind, one that I would have never even dared to hope for, much less even know to ask: the mending of my own precious soul.
If you only knew what I really believe about faith…
Would you still worship with me?
If you only knew how I voted in the last election…
Would you still respect me?
If you only knew what’s happening in my home right now…
Would you still confide in me?
If you only knew what’s happened in my past…
Would you still value me?
If you only knew the number on my scale…
Would you still have grace for me?
If you only knew my opinions about the issues facing our world…
Would you still like me?
If you only knew how I spent my money…
Would you still be my friend?
If you only knew what goes on in my mind…
Would you still trust me?
I hide.
I keep secrets.
I stay in my cage.
I show you a false version of me.
I protect my self at all costs.
ALL BECAUSE I WANT TO
belong to you.
be accepted by you.
be LOVED by you.
Jesus tenderly brings me out of hiding.
I have no secrets with Him.
He sets me free.
He allows the truest version of me.
He protects my REAL self at all costs.
I AM SO GRATEFUL THAT I
belong to Him
am accepted by Him
am LOVED by Him
I want to be Jesus with skin on FOR you.
I want the same FROM you.
Together, maybe we can show this Jesus to everyone else.
It’s 1 am.
My five-month old cries out from her crib.
Not another night of this!
It’s been three weeks since I’ve had more than 3 hours of sleep in a row. God, HELP me! HELP them!
I am barely functioning anymore, bags under my eyes the size of grapes!
I don’t think I can take it anymore! I am SO done!
It’s 1 am.
My kindergartener screams from his room.
Why does this keep happening?
The nightmares are getting worse! God, HELP me! HELP them!
Am I doing something wrong?
I don’t have any idea what to do! I am SO done!
It’s 1 am.
My 10-year old shouts “MOMMY!” at the top of his lungs.
His jammy bottoms are soaked.
He’s wet the bed again. God, HELP me! HELP them!
I’ve already called the doctor five times.
Nothing is working! I am SO done!
It’s 1 am.
I haven’t heard from my new driver’s license holder since 7 pm.
Her curfew is 11 pm. She knows better than this!
Is she hurt? Is she drunk? Is she alive? God, HELP me! HELP them!
I never knew this mom gig would be SO hard!
Will I ever get sleep? Will I ever stop worrying? I am SO done!
It’s 1 am.
My cell phone vibrates on the nightstand. I ignore it.
It’s vibrates again and again. I finally pick it up. Hello?
The campus security guard is on the other end. My daughter was found passed out on the sidewalk, having had WAY too much to drink. God, HELP me! HELP them!
This is un(freaking)believable! She will be the death of me!
What in the world am I supposed to do now? I am SO done!
It’s 1 am.
My eyes refuse to close in sleep.
My son has been furloughed from his job.
This pandemic is wrecking everything. He was doing so well and now this!!! God, HELP me! HELP them!
What is going to happen?
Even if he gets his sales back, will any business have the money to buy advertising? UGH! I am SO done!
It’s 1 am. I lay awake on my bed.
I can’t believe the text I got from my son this afternoon.
I burst into tears as I read it, gratitude bubbling up and leaking out! GOD, you’ve HELPED me! You’ve HELPED them! It keeps happening! Every single time!
You love him even more than I do! You are our great and only HOPE! I am SO UNDONE!
Baby showers. Hospital rooms. 24-hour deliveries. No sleep. Leaky nursing bra. Baby giggles. Blurry mind. Toothless smiles. Crawling under the crib in the middle of the night for the pacifier. Yellow poop up the back.
I can’t believe this is my life.
Tantrums in grocery stores. Toddler tunes enough to drive a normal person crazy. First full sentences. Bonked heads. Refusals to nap. Go Dog Go. Happy bubble baths. Weird obsessions. Endless hugs.
I can’t believe this is my life.
Play dates. Obnoxious Nick Jr. Skinned knees. Brown play-dough. Playgrounds. Accidents in pants. Too many doctor visits. Smooshy kisses (right on the lips)! Melt-downs. “Parent’s, please stay with your child” birthday parties.
I can’t believe this is my life.
Homework. The car. The car. The car. Class parties. Sidelines and fields. Strange sounds coming from musical instruments. Mom school projects. Fibs. Surprise “I love you” notes. Whining. Lost jackets, mittens, and hats.
I can’t believe this is my life.
Cliques. Hormones. School performance pressure. Spontaneous hugs. Rolling eyes. Good talks in the car, facing forward. Did I say hormones? Budding independence. Dinners on the run. Concerts. Teams. Plays. Try-outs. Rejections. First paid gigs.
I can’t believe this is my life.
First kisses (and second and third). Team dinners. Slammed doors. Missed curfews. Drivers’ licenses. YIKES. Long unprompted talks. Proms. Less and less control. Senior nights. Heartbreaks. Texts not returned for what seems like hours and hours and hours. Real Christmas presents. Car accidents. College apps. Caps flying in the air.
I can’t believe this is my life.
Dorm shopping. Saying goodbye. Endless mom tears. Weeks between texts. WORRY. Weird campus visits. Saying hello. Curfews??? No. Home-cooked food. Yes. Summer job??? Possibly. Up till all weird hours. Yes. Dirty dishes. Yes. Family. Saying goodbye again. Less mom tears. More mom relief. REPEAT for four years.
I can’t believe this is my life.
First jobs. W2s. Uhauls. “Adulting.” Used car lots. Uhauls. Sincere and heart-felt “thank you moms.” Heated conversations about world events. Tearful hugs goodbye. Zoom family game nights. Did I mention Uhauls? Mother’s Day flowers from afar. Wedding planning. Real friendship. Grandpuppies. Precious and fleeting moments “ALL TOGETHER.” Yup. Uhauls.
I can’t believe this is my life.
Baby showers. Hospital rooms. 24-hour deliveries. Baby giggles. Toothless smiles. After-bath smells. Snuggles and kisses. Toddler tantrums. Excitement over Mommy’s old Fisher Price school bus. Go Dog Go. Sad “see you soons.” Facetime laughter. “I love you the most, Mema.” Happiest hugs hello.
I loved seeing you yesterday, even though it was from a distance. I loved watching you play with our dog. I loved hearing from your mom and dad about your hike in the meadow. I loved how we talked at the end about being “awake” together during the night.
Last night, I woke up a few times and just like I told you, I thought of you and prayed for you, that you wouldn’t be afraid like you’ve been the last few weeks.
But it was more than that and I want to tell you what happened.
When I woke up, I thought about the things that God is and then I thought about you.
The first thing I thought about is that GOD IS LOVE. He loves me. He loves you. But then I thought about you, your name. SELAH. I was told when I was about your age that when I saw that word in the Psalms, it meant, “pause and reflect.” So that’s what I did in the middle of the night.
I thought about God loving me and you and then I just laid there for a minute with your name: SELAH. I laid there and thought a little longer about how much God loves me and you. Paused and reflected.
The next thing I thought about is that GOD IS GOOD. He is good to me. He is good to you. Then I thought about your name again. SELAH. I laid there just another minute, pausing and reflecting.
The very last thing I thought about is that GOD IS WITH US. He is with me. He is with you. SELAH. I don’t think it was very long at all before I drifted back off to sleep.
I woke up a couple more times during the night and thought more about these three things. And YOU. Praying that God would help us to be able to rest and sleep and remember over and over and over again that He loves us. He is good to us. He is with us always.
SELAH, you are a beautiful young lady (I can’t believe you are only nine) and I am so grateful that I know you. I am so thankful that the name your mom and dad gave you helped me so much last night.
Tonight, if and when I wake up again, I’m going to be thinking about you and God and pausing and reflecting. SELAH.
If you wake up in the middle of the night this week (and I hope you don’t), remember that you are not alone and that I am “awake” with you, and God is taking care of us both.
Is it all for naught? I feel like I’m teetering on the edge. We all are.
I stayed longer, baffled as to whether or not to keep mulling in despair or get up and “face the day.”
I’m not sure when it happened (the time is blurry during that weird waking-up time), but a faint glimmer of “hope” flickered, just bright enough for me to feel its dim light in the darkness of my mind.
A small moment of clarity shoved its way in.
My whole journey to this healthier space was a marathon, not a sprint. And I ran it. I ran it. One moment at a time. One hour at a time. One day at a time. I ran it.
I can run this marathon too. One moment at a time. One hour at a time. One day at a time. There is hope. There is hope.
Grappling for the mental health tools I had right there in my bed, I talked to God about a few things I was grateful for today.
1. My bed.
2. My husband.
3. A fridge and pantry with food.
4. The sun shining on our philodendron.
5. My car insurance company kicking back 15% to us.
6. My computer.
7. My thyroid meds.
8. My parent’s generosity to our furloughed son yesterday.
9. You who take a minute to read and comment and encourage me in this space.
10. My kids.
It wasn’t magic. I don’t feel fine. But it was a step. A step of hope. That’s good enough for this morning.
