Monday, August 24, 2009


There are days I feel so small. Small and insignificant. Days I feel bored with life, bored with existence. I feel as if I don't matter. I feel forgotten.

Do you ever feel that way? Like you are going through the motions of life? That there is no life in your life? Same day, same routine.

I was feeling that way yesterday. I've been shut up in the house for a week with the flu, and I got the old tunnel vision. You know, where one day inside leads to more and more? It just gets easier and easier to not go out.

Last night I was moved to pray. I find I have alot more time now, considering I get up around 300 times a night to pee. (thank you, baby) It's always been in the dead of night when I feel closest to God. No distractions, no noise. No filter. Just Him and I, looking at the moon together. Many times I simply tell Him I love him, over and over until I fall back to sleep. But last night was different. I poured myself out to Him, praising Him for all I have been given. Just praising Him. No agenda, no requests. Just worship. I felt Him. He was with me, close as skin.

As I fell back to sleep, I felt different. Lighter. Cocooned in a way. Safe.

And this morning I woke with the sun. Everything in me was ready to take on the day- to go, to run, to play. To make my daughter breakfast, curl her hair, kiss her sweet little head over and over. To go grocery shopping and sing in the car. To be joyful and free. To exercise and laugh and feel the sun on my face.

It was just ordinary life. Just still the same old me. But for the first time in a long time, I felt there was meaning in my day. There was MORE than the mundane. More time to look at the sky, less time spent indoors, brooding over housework. More time memorizing my Lily's sweet face as she watches the world go by. Less time sitting in front of Noggin.

It was just a day. But it was a day that God held up a mirror for me. My life, and all I do, does have meaning. It is ordinary, and it is something women have been doing since the dawn of time. I am not saving the world. But I am saving myself, every single moment that I move beyond my past. With every concious decision to parent well, with every snuggle and laugh and experience, I am moving beyond myself. Beyond what I knew, to what I have CREATED. To what God has allowed me to become.

I am a mother who was never mothered. I am a parent who was never parented. I am a wife who has never seen what a wife truly is. I am moving beyond everything I ever knew, and leaving the safety net behind.

And up here, balancing on the high wire, looking down at all I have left behind, I have never, ever felt safer. I know the Hands that hold me now. I am what He makes of me, and His work is good.