December 31, 2012 § 1 Comment
Image//edited by ThisChickadee
Good morning, friends.
Before we get started, I will let you know that I am not going to do a full 2012 recap. Nope. I just can’t. Why? I am so incredibly immersed in the present that trying to claim major moments for every month of the entire year would cause my brain to explode.
But that doesn’t mean that I am not overall overwhelmingly grateful for 2012 and all it has brought us.
I’ll just cover it all with a blanket blessing- I know that this year will go down in history as one that changed my life forever, tested me in new ways, and brought a new understanding of love. Never again will I be the same and I believe that is the point in life–to grow and change and molded–and some growing pains have definitely come with the territory. I’ve squinted my eyes and strained my gaze real hard at times, looking for exactly what the Lord has up His sleeve, what I’m supposed to see or learn in this or that, and sometimes I believe I’ve seen it while others, it was beyond me. I could only shrug. Or cry.
I’ve screamed at Him, written prayers in bold, dark letters in my journal, and shed tears at His feet in anger, fear, doubt, and utter grief.
I have sung praise at the top of my lungs, grabbed my husband’s hand as we thank Him for it ALL, and smiled up to heaven when a blessing has up and hit me in the face.
My heart has shrunk with bitterness and swelled with joy.
I have shaken my fists like a petulant child and lifted my hands like a humble servant.
And though I’ve changed much, He has changed not at all. While hours and days seem to be rushing or crawling by, while I say good-bye to 2012 and the calendar changes to 2013, He is outside time and limited by nothing.
He is and always will be.
And I can breathe.
But it’s not just about me now. I sit here, going about my day and typing these words to you, and a little human is being perfectly formed inside of me. The miracle of miracles. I claim no part in the knitting together of this new life, its hands and feet, its heart and mouth, its perfect creation. I wake up every day and go to bed every night and still it grows. My Creator knows its name, has it written on the palm of His hand, and already loves it more than I can possibly imagine (which is hard to believe, but true). I weep at the gift the Lord has given, at His abundant love for me and this child, the person it will become, that I am being entrusted with one of His children. Above all, this little one is His.
I do not take this for granted. Okay, there are days when I get caught up in life and don’t consider it at all, but I strive to make those days rare. To feel those kicks and punches daily. For my husband to feel them, too. To sit in the exam room and have the midwife say, “it all looks really good” after seeing all they could possibly see from my baby’s head to toe, I pause. I know this could all look very different. I know others who have felt heartbreak and loss over and over in the beginning or shattered dreams farther along. I know my story is different from the next and the next. And I pause. And keep lifting my eyes up with a grateful heart. “Come what may, Lord,” I repeat.
The reality is that we end this year with regrets and rejoices, our human natures having gotten in the way and into trouble too many times, and with resolutions to be better. Our inventory of the year can make us smile or cry. And my list is still long, the things I want to fix and improve, have refined and all together eradicated for 2013. Thinking about that list can make me want to skip midnight on December 31 and instead crossover into the New Year unobserved and unaccountable. But the fear to face what’s next is calmed by knowing that as I looked at my husband on Christmas Day night, we could only say this:
“Our cup runneth over.”
Happy New Year, everyone. May your cup overflow.