The early stages of motherhood thrust me into an exhausting balancing act. My heart was full but my life needed new rhythms. Feelings of overwhelming joy and desperation somehow managed to collide.
In an effort to carve out devotional time, a quick bath was my opportunity to connect with God. Unfortunately a turn of the page caused my book to take a nose dive into the water.
Bends and crinkles resided on pages that were once nice and neat. And portions of nothingness replaced previously legible words. Thankfully a rapid response minimized the damage.
We waited years for a child, so being fully awake to meet her was a huge prayer request. But after almost 12 hours of labor, our daughter went into distress. Within moments things went from normal to chaotic. The only option was surgery.
A lot happened in a short amount of time. And after a couple weeks, the weightiness of it all rolled in. I was thankful but disappointed.... grateful but spiritually depleted. It wasn’t something I shared. I mean how could I be holding a miracle and feel so distant from the miracle worker? I needed time in God's presence but struggled to get there.
…how could I be holding a miracle and feel so distant from the miracle worker?
When my Pastor called to check in, I responded with the standard, “I’m fine.” After all, starting a conversation with, “ I feel empty.” didn’t seem appropriate. Thankfully my lack of transparency didn't bother him. He posed the question a second time and before I could respond, the words, "You know ... you can spend time with God while feeding her, rocking her to sleep….." released a reservoir of tears.
For weeks I felt like what I was offering God wasn't enough. I was accustomed to a certain pattern for my devotional time. But this season was different. There were only small windows if that. ... to read and pray. And studying? Well… that wasn't even an option.
The conversation with my Pastor taught me I didn't have to approach the Father the same way. It wasn’t necessary to be confined to a particular hour of the day, length of time or posture. God wasn't holding me hostage to a rigid schedule. That was my own doing.
God wasn't holding me hostage to a rigid schedule. That was my own doing.
1 Thessalonians 5:17 encourages us to "pray without ceasing" yet how to actually do that was sort of a mystery. My Pastor helped connect the dots. So I started praying in the grocery store, while running errands, folding clothes, preparing dinner and rocking our Bayley to sleep.
I made efforts to turn my focus towards the Lord all throughout the day. Gradually I sensed the sweetness of His presence. I gave God what I had and it was enough.
Your Sister Friend,