Today I sat at my kitchen table, beside an open window, knitting a blanket for my new son. A moment of gratitude for this season of pause.
I have resisted this season, resented it even. I have felt like my whole life has been set on pause during this pregnancy. I wait to see what this child will be like - an easy baby? A fussy baby? Will he sleep well? Grow strong? I wonder how I will adjust to being back in the baby stage again. Will I bounce back? Will I stay active?
I remember Eli's first months as basically spending a year at home in my pajamas. I lost friends that year and gained some dear new ones. I wonder if it will be the same? Will I struggle to get out of the house, take a shower and load the dishwasher? Will it be as hard for me to go back to the baby stage again as it was the last time?
I don't know. I feel mighty stuck. Like my life is on pause as I grow this new baby inside of me.
So here I sit with my feet propped up and a giant cup of ice water nearby. But in this particular moment I feel thankful for this moment of pause. This stillness. This quiet. This soaking up all that I have to be grateful for. Listening to my kids play with the neighbors in the back yard. Knowing that this is a sweet spot, an in between time when all my kids are old enough to play outside together without needing me to keep an eye on them ever minute and when I will spend my days with a baby on my chest (and then chasing after an increasing mobile boy) but today, right now I just feel thankful for this moment.
It's dark right now, the whole house is quiet but I can't sleep. As much as I would like to, I just can't. I sit in my dark kitchen, drinking a glass of milk (and a little bit of ice cream) and think about that moment. The word comes to mind "let" from James 1 - the word is in the context of trials, that the trials test your faith and the testing produces steadfastness and then it says "let steadfastness have it's full effect" so that you can become mature and effective. I think of this verse as saying - let this thing that you are going through have it's full effect on you. Don't fight the pain, the hurt and the struggle of this season.
Let this season produce its intended effect. Let this moment come and go. Let it change you deep inside.
I want this for myself in this season of pause.
What I feel about this season is like my tide has gone out. Like God asked me to be brave, to walk out on the waves in faith and I did for a bit but then the tide went out and now the ground I'm standing on is just mud. Nothing beautiful about that. Nothing brave or spectacular, just sticky, gloppy mud and here I stand in it, stuck.
What I am choosing to believe about this season is that God has a plan for this time. That even in this moment, in this literal pregnant pause there is something going on, deep inside of me that I can't see. Things shifting, pieces getting stronger, other pieces being let go. I don't get to watch the process because it's deep deep within, but I see the result. I know I will see it in me. That when the next storm waves crash I'll stand stronger. I'll stand amazed at what God has done in me. But in the meantime I'll simply let. Let this painful season become a pause, and watch the wasteland become a garden.