Archive for the ‘just a word...’ Category
in the waiting days
Jude was asleep in the car seat as I pulled into the parking lot this morning. In a spot of sunshine, I would wait for him to wake up in time to make it to my stroller-mommy workout.
I listened to him breathing deeply, his fingers gripping a teething ring. As I watched his motionless face, his eyes closed so tight and his mouth open in surrendered slumber, my mind traced a random line back to the final days of my pregnancy.
It was a beautiful, whole and healthy pregnancy that I loved and would do again in a heartbeat. But those last few days of waiting were torture. You see, I had it in my head that Jude would come early (so much for motherly intuition). So when he still hadn’t come by his due date, I was angry, sad and a little worried.
In the waiting days, Jason and I did all sorts of things – some crazy, some sane – to pass the time. We made rosaries and painted model cars. We took walks. We blew up an air mattress and slept in the living room with all the windows open for nearly three weeks. We watched movies and ordered gluten-free pizzas. We did our best to keep our minds off the waiting, but as each day passed without a sign of Jude’s arrival, I couldn’t ignore the growing ache.
I knew I couldn’t be pregnant forever, but as 41 weeks of pregnancy came and went, I began to wonder if I may be the world’s first perpetually pregnant woman.
For me, Advent is something like that. There’s so much promise. So much beauty. So much good just on the horizon. But it can seem to stretch on and on and on as we wait for what’s coming. And we really don’t know exactly what’s coming. We think we know. But we really don’t. And no one can tell us entirely. We just have to wait. And see. And we do all sorts of things – some crazy, some sane – to pass the time.
But there will be a birth. There must be. We – all of us – and creation cannot groan forever.
No Commentshelpless
I sat in our Advent service today, my eyes a bit glazy from the days before. In a week of new sites, sounds and people in Jude’s life, he required more of my care and attention to balance out the increased stimulation. It once again made me keenly aware of his deep dependence on me. Not just for food and shelter, but for compassion and energy, gentleness and peace.
As I held a sleeping Jude next to my heart, I glanced over the hymnal again and again to be sure I was reading the words right. The helpless babe… was what the Christmastime hymn had to say about Jesus.
Helpless.
Jesus.
Really?
I looked down at Jude and thought about how helpless he is. As it stands, he is utterly dependent on the care and kindness of someone else (namely, me) for every necessity. It’s hard to imagine Jesus in the same position as an infant. I mean, think of it – the being who spoke universes and mountains into existence incapable of lifting his head without Mary’s hand behind it.
Seems that Jesus gave more than we sometimes remember. Not just in coming to save his creation, but in entrusting his strong and holy self to the likes of a teenage mother and her betrothed. It says something about Christ. It says something about us, too. That somehow he believes we weak and frail beings are worthy of holding divinity in our hands and tending to his every need.
1 Commentthe wild waiting place*
The thunderhead, black and pregnant with rain, blows across my path again.
A night of wind and breath, questions and groaning.
Will it rain?
It looks like rain.
Is that a drop?
What if there’s rain?
What if there’s no rain?
The air is thick with chaos and humidity as tall grasses bend low and shush loudly.
But then, as quickly as it moved in, the gale pushes the storm beyond the place where I am.
No storm tonight.
Only clouds.
And currents pitching against one another.
And I am left again in the wake of warm breezes on a strange and erratic precipice.
Wondering.
Hoping.
In the wild waiting place.
*For Jude.
I should have known you’d throw all our expectations to the wind, you little wild man.
We love you…and love waiting for you.
1 Commentbirth day
4 a.m.
Cold glass of water.
DVR episode of Late Night with Jimmy Fallon.
And the silent rhythm of pre-labor contractions, my breath and the life inside.
We’re getting close, little Jude. Just a few things left to do. Your birth day is almost here.
2 Commentshero
There goes my hero, watch him as he goes…
- Foo Fighters
I’ve told Jason many times that he’s my hero. In so many ways (mostly intangible ways) he has come to my rescue, slayed the beast and recovered my heart.
But recently Jason became a hero for an entire village.
When he found out about Ellie’s Run for Africa and that it only costs $25 to put one child through school for a year, he didn’t hesitate a second. He signed up immediately to be a hero and run the 5K race on Saturday, June 13 to raise awareness and support for children in Kibera, Kenya.
In just five years, Ellie’s Run has:
- Raised over $155,000
- Helped put over 420 kids in school by providing them with necessary items – books, uniforms and shoes
- Helped build classrooms and laboratories at a school located in Kibera, Kenya
- Helped build a vocational school in Kenya – where students can learn and develop a trade
- Donated funds for medical supplies at Mercy Children’s Clinic in Kenya and the Living Hope Clinic in South Africa to help Africans suffering from dehydration, malaria, starvation and HIV/AIDS
Learn more about being a hero for the children of Kibera and come out for the race. Or support Jason. Believe me…there’s nothing like seeing your hero be a hero to someone else.
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