May 2013 has been one for the record books. For some reason it has felt more harried and stressful than in Mays past, hence the title of this post.
The end of April and into the first week of May marked a 9-day stretch of Andrew having school related activities each evening. And since then, we've been in and out of the doctor's office each week. The visits resulted in ear infections for both Joey and Hannah and most recently, a virus leaving Hannah covered from head to toe (literally) in a rash. I've felt tired, overworked, lonely, detached from friends, and far from family. Thankfully, we've also had many good things happening that have kept us on our toes like multiple weddings, a garage sale (hooray for cleaning out the basement and making $200!), Ben's baseball practices starting, and trying to finish up our 1st grade curriculum.
One of the things that helped to endure these last few weeks was what I wrote about in my Mother's Day post last year. I thought back to the words of the beautifully wise Ann Voskamp, of a mother duck plucking the best of her feathers to line and pad her nest... that I had to give even more when it seemed like there was nothing left to give.
I didn't sail through flawlessly by any means, and it seemed to come to head yesterday when I needed to vent to a few people. I loved what one friend wrote me in response... "Praying for healing in Hannah and peace and strength for you. May you be filled with the Holy Spirit! May He be glorified. Be encouraged! He sees you."
Three little words brought such calm to me: He sees you. The phrase comes from the story of Hagar in Genesis 16. She is the maidservant that Sarah gave Abraham to bear a child because Sarah was unable to get pregnant. Once Hagar became pregnant, Sarah treated her poorly and Hagar ran away. God came to her as she sat by a spring in the desert, and while he didn't give her the best news, she said in response to Him "You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me." She wasn't in the best of circumstances, but she wasn't alone or forgotten. I felt that same comfort with those words of promise from my friend (thank you Sarah M.)! A phone call to another encouraging friend, Erica, also lifted me up substantially. After a few tears and some prayer, I had a God-blessed day with the kids yesterday.
There's a light at end of tunnel.
The end of April and into the first week of May marked a 9-day stretch of Andrew having school related activities each evening. And since then, we've been in and out of the doctor's office each week. The visits resulted in ear infections for both Joey and Hannah and most recently, a virus leaving Hannah covered from head to toe (literally) in a rash. I've felt tired, overworked, lonely, detached from friends, and far from family. Thankfully, we've also had many good things happening that have kept us on our toes like multiple weddings, a garage sale (hooray for cleaning out the basement and making $200!), Ben's baseball practices starting, and trying to finish up our 1st grade curriculum.
One of the things that helped to endure these last few weeks was what I wrote about in my Mother's Day post last year. I thought back to the words of the beautifully wise Ann Voskamp, of a mother duck plucking the best of her feathers to line and pad her nest... that I had to give even more when it seemed like there was nothing left to give.
"When the feather lining of the nest wears thin, the nest chafes hard. We feel it. We hurt. Life gets hard. Nests need feathers deep. Someone must pluck. When will I learn: The down we sacrifice from ourselves — this is what settles and soothes. Scraps won’t suffice. Not mere snippets of time, leftover me, a trinket, a diversion, tossed. Mother ducks don’t line nests with feathers, dirty and trampled, the molted and unnecessary. Why would I? Nests need feathers fresh, warm with mother’s life." (emphasis hers)I learned through this May-hem that when I gave and gave and gave, there was actually peace. The kids were at peace. Strangely, in the midst of the most busy of days, even I was at peace.
I didn't sail through flawlessly by any means, and it seemed to come to head yesterday when I needed to vent to a few people. I loved what one friend wrote me in response... "Praying for healing in Hannah and peace and strength for you. May you be filled with the Holy Spirit! May He be glorified. Be encouraged! He sees you."
Three little words brought such calm to me: He sees you. The phrase comes from the story of Hagar in Genesis 16. She is the maidservant that Sarah gave Abraham to bear a child because Sarah was unable to get pregnant. Once Hagar became pregnant, Sarah treated her poorly and Hagar ran away. God came to her as she sat by a spring in the desert, and while he didn't give her the best news, she said in response to Him "You are the God who sees me,” for she said, “I have now seen the One who sees me." She wasn't in the best of circumstances, but she wasn't alone or forgotten. I felt that same comfort with those words of promise from my friend (thank you Sarah M.)! A phone call to another encouraging friend, Erica, also lifted me up substantially. After a few tears and some prayer, I had a God-blessed day with the kids yesterday.
There's a light at end of tunnel.
"Jesus spoke to the people once more and said,
'I am the light of the world.
If you follow me, you won’t have to walk in darkness,
because you will have the light
that leads to life.'"
John 8:12 (NLT)
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