November 2021 – rhythms of grace

Little guy is four months old now and I am praising the Lord that I truly feel like we are out of the woods of the craziness of the newborn season. It almost feels like a distant memory now–all those sleepless nights, panic attacks and profanity-filled prayers. I don’t know how we made it through but we did. A season that felt like it would last forever has finally passed, and so much quicker than I ever could have expected. The baby sleeps through the night and the hormones have settled and life actually feels joy-filled once again, with a new kind of joy that only a baby can bring.

But there is a part of me that is afraid. Afraid of sinking back into that pit of despair. Afraid that the ball will drop again.

The hard seasons of life have taught me to be skeptical about the good ones. I’ve become jaded enough to expect something to go wrong when things are going right, searching for the dark clouds in a suspiciously blue sky. I wish I could just enjoy the sweetness without anticipating the sour. To embrace the present without worrying about what is to come. But life has trained me otherwise. Life wants me to become a cynic, to expect and plan for the worst. And it has a way of sounding so convincing and logical, so practical and wise–especially with the news headlines these days and the increasingly chaotic and divided state of the world. Perhaps “life” is really just a pseudonym for Satan, who would love nothing more than to see us live in a constant state of fear and anxiety. But that is not the way of faith.

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.
Matthew 6:34

God has a different way for us. He doesn’t allow us to go through hard things to “weather” us or to beat us down. He’s not trying to break us simply for the sake of seeing us suffer, to “teach us a lesson,” or to keep us on our toes. No, quite the opposite in fact. He breaks us in order to make us more whole. Like the pot that is more beautiful once it has shattered and been glued back together by the potter, until we are broken (and accept our brokenness) we can never know true wholeness. A wholeness that isn’t achieved by us trying to put the pieces back together ourselves, but rather by the Potter Himself. He has certainly done so to me through this thing called new motherhood. I had no idea how broken I could be and yet how whole I would become by going through the fire of the early postpartum days. My old self had to be broken in order to become the new mother that my little boy needs–but that breaking process is always a painful one.

The things that He broke in me were things that needed to be broken anyway, regardless of becoming a mother: selfishness, stubbornness, an illusion of independence and an entitlement to my time and needs first. Having a baby was simply the circumstance He used and is using to break me in this season, but He can and will use anything in our lives if we let Him. The choice is not whether or not to be broken (because we will be), but rather whether we allow Him to remake us or try to remake ourselves. It is the classic choice between bitter or better. And I want to choose better.

In these good days with my precious boy, I want to soak it all in. I want to enjoy the stage we are at now where he is cuddly and adorable and so much fun to be with. I want to think only of the now, the beautiful and sacred now. Because, in reality, that’s all we have. Future worries or hopes cannot be clung to, because they may or may not happen. But right now, I have a wonderful family and a roof over my head and life is good. And if the ball drops again (which it will), God will give me the grace to endure it, as He did through the newborn season and every season before that.