Martha vs. Mary

My friends Teri Miller and Karen Klasi, both whom have inspired me to blog and continue to blog are amazing women. Both beautiful writers and beautiful women of God.

And I am jealous. Karen’s talent with words far surpasses that of my own and I read her blog posts with joy and sinful envy. Teri is blessed with the ability to see the lessons God has for her through everyday experiences.

Today I feel stuck. Writer’s block as they say. Does that even exist? I heard somewhere at some point in time to write anyway.

So, write I will….

My oldest took the rare nap on the couch yesterday while the youngest was sleeping. He asked me to cuddle with him and if I would play some lullabies.

Of course I would.

Jewel has a lullaby CD that he and I have listened to for a looooong time. As she sang and I snuggled with my enormous 4 year old, my mind started to fill with the things I *needed* to do. Laundry. Dishes. Dust. Vacuum. Change the litter box.

No. I told my brain to shut up.

But both boys are going to sleep…..think of all you can accomplish.

Eventually the “Martha” in me lost (as in the one from the Bible who rushed around preparing and cleaning, not Stewart. Though if I had a crew of people working for me to organize, craft, and clean, I would give her a run for her money.)

I chose to be Mary (as in the one who sat at Jesus’ feet).  I wrapped my arm around my growing boy and felt his body relax and noticed when his breath steadied indicating he was indeed, sleeping. I talked with Jesus while I was there. Thanking Him, praising Him, feeling humbled by the gift of Motherhood.

Waking up 20 minutes later, glad I had chosen to be Mary for a bit, I let my boy sleep for a little longer.

I can’t recall the finest details of eventually doing the mundane household chores (which of course I always do as on to the Lord….not).  But I can vividly remember that snuggle time, adding it to the various snapshots in my mind that my brain has taken throughout this life.

Oh, and if you want, please check out my dear friends’ blogs. You will not be disappointed.

http://tuesdaywithteri.wordpress.com/

http://www.karenklasiwrites.com

Advertisements

I made it.

I had fully intended not to write about this day. I was going to let it come and go like any other day without much of an acknowledgment.

I sat down to study Hebrews, the book that my fabulous discipler friend and I have been going through the last few months.

I pressed play on iTunes as I pulled up biblegateway.com and listened to the song that has become so familiar to me, “Arms that Hold the Universe” by 33 Miles.

As the first few notes began to play, I remembered how I used to cling to the lyrics in this song during the deepest of my struggle. It became my “theme song”. (Ever watch Ally McBeal?)

Then I was smacked in the face with the realization that today marks the one year anniversary of when it all came crashing down.

I covered my face and felt so overcome with emotion I almost exploded. The tears didn’t come like I thought they would. I was instead filled with an overwhelming amount of gratitude and was literally speechless before God.

I can’t explain why the passing of 365 days since the onslaught is remarkable. I feel like I have permission to look over my shoulder at the experience of my postpartum illness, acknowledge it for what it was, and then look ahead with confidence and continue to walk away. With His grace…..

I made it.

On being a Mama

There is nothing more endearing as a mother of boys then seeing my four year old with a fresh haircut, in cammo shorts, shirtless, boxing gloves, beating the heck out of his Hulk Hogan pop em’ sock em’. Oh, and he’s yelling, “You wanna piece of me? Huzzah!” and throws and uppercut.

Or telling him not to pick his nose and eat his boogers….for the 23rd time at least.

Or hearing him say, “Momma, I will be in your heart forever and will always be your son”.

Or when my almost 16 month old wakes up with the worst case of bedhead you have ever seen and smiles at me with is pacifier in his mouth when we wakes up in the morning.

Then there are the moments when either of them cry and they make the same face they did when they came into this world.

There’s the determination on my youngest’s face when he is denied something he wants and is trying to figure out a way to get it. His eyesbrows furrow and I recognize that as my “concentration face”.

Throwing goldfish on the carpet for my littlest because I know that’s where they will end up anyway while I try to finish a dvd workout, and end up picking him up half way through because he wants to be held. He laughs as we spin and jump together and I fall in love just a little bit more.

And all of that just happened in a week.

The wonder of motherhood and the intensity of emotions is something that will forever baffle me. This complex gift is one that I take with a great sense of honor and gratitude. How I wish, oh how I wish, I could just hold on to these days! They slip away like grains of sand through my fingers.