on seeing beauty in weakness: a hiatus.

"For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him 
that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: 
there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach." 

— J.R.R. Tolkien (The Return of the King)

and just as fast as this started, it ends.

I knew that this topic was going to stretch me, and had hopes that I would grow during it. but I didn't expect the lesson to come so swiftly. or for it to be so raw.

friends, I am tired. and have been struggling to find the words for this challenge. some have come, but not enough--and not without their share of tears. 

I've been in the habit lately of stretching myself too thinly. asking too much of myself because of good intentions. thankfully I have a gracious husband that was kind to remind me that I can't do it all. or even nearly as much as I think I can. and, maybe I should consider taking a break, until I have enough to pour into it all that I want to.

so, I'm taking a break from this topic (before I even really get started). but I will be working on it in the background and when it's time, will be so excited to share it with you. for now, this blog will be simply little bits of our life and my heart. little snapshots of the beauty in my life.

because friends, I am weak.

I am overwhelmed by a lack of rest and an abundance of doing.

I am worn out.

but there is beauty in my weakness. because where I am weak, my god is strong.

so today, I am learning how to rest in the strength that is found in my redeemer.

and oh, it's humbling. 

I am not there yet. but today, I am choosing to see the beauty in my weakness. because there is something precious in knowing that though I am a flawed creature, there is hope. and that when come to the end of myself, there is only room to grow.

see you soon.

love.

on sleeplessness.

“What hath night to do with sleep?” 

― John Milton, Paradise Lost

if i didn't know better, i'd say that milton was in my head.

these last few weeks have been long. the days have stretched well into the nights, and the nights have lingered too long to not count for much at all. there are stolen moments of sleep, peppered among the cries of a tired baby girl, but the lack of anything substantial has been draining. naps happen in intervals, and life is just busy.

the truth? i've never been more exhausted in my entire life.

but this time has been one of such growth. of stretching beyond myself--my strength, patience, joy--and causing me to strive for change. not just change of circumstance, because despite the trying, sleeplessness still remains. but change of heart.

the nights might not be filled with the sleep i need, but they can still be filled with the grace i need.

there has been a gradual change happening, causing my nights (and days) to be filled with less anxiety, and more peace. joy even.

joy in the daily everythings. because i am deciding to remind myself of them often.

i have a list in my head. for the moments i become anxious, or angry even, that i can't have a moment to breathe when i'd like it. a list filled with good things, like the way that my children are healthy and growing and changing into precious little beings. the way the afternoon sun streams in through the living room windows as i cuddle one or the other as they take turns napping. and even the way the coffee brews and the rich smell wafts across the room throughout the day.

slowly, my nights are turning into purposeful times of sweet thankfulness as i feed my baby and calm her cries. 

i am in a place of few words these days, and instead have found myself in a place of ever-present grace, relying heavily on the daily manna gifted to me by a kind Father, who is showing me snippets of an incredibly blessed life, and sustaining me on a fraction of rest that i would have thought necessary to function.

and i'm learning that although my nights might not have much to do with sleep, they have much to do with refreshing grace.

because my strength is not really found in myself, and the more i realize that, the more i am able to walk through this hard season well. and so, i'd appreciate your prayers, friends. prayers for strength, sleep, and diligence.

diligence to make my nights count.

love.

on hitting reset.

last night proved to be one not made of sleep.

the little lady is teething, and has been for weeks with no progress in sight. the poor thing wakes constantly, whining, moaning and wanting to nurse each time. my mama heart aches for her--she still has a sweet and happy disposition despite her discomfort, but she's had a go of it for sure.

this morning, I was tired. really, it was less graceful than that and more like haggard. my groggy, scratchy voice cut through the morning air in more ways than one as I snapped at coen for being too rough with his sister. even though he wasn't trying to be mean. 

oh, his face. and oh, my heart. 

my selfishness smacked me in the face, along with a reminder that I have countless reasons to be thankful, joyful even, in the midst of this sleepless season. one of these reasons was staring back at me, his eyes full of hurt.

I realized that I needed to hit the reset button. 

____

recently, I read somewhere (I wish I could remember where) about the idea--and sometimes the necessity--of "hitting reset" on your day. just starting it over, and letting the first attempt(s) go. I tend to fall easily into self-pity when I feel I've been less than I should, and this idea of just wiping the slate and starting fresh was revolutionary. but honestly I hadn't given much thought to it since.  

but today, I did. and then I had to hit it a few more times. but you know what? it worked. my attitude shifted, and my goal changed. it was no longer to have my children be quiet so I could rest, but that my speech and tone and actions were loving and my heart was thankful and that my children felt loved. 

this. this active pursuit of changing my thoughts to reflect what I know is right and who I want to be, is what I want to win out in those moments of weakness. to turn from my sin, instead of dwelling on it.

in my devotions this morning, I read this: 

"fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, and you are mine." 

- Isaiah 43:1b

I want to rest in this, remembering whose I am, and who loves me right where I am. I am his, despite how many times I have to start my day over. and I can start my day over, because I am his. 

love.

8.8.13

"How can it be a large career to tell other people's children about the Rule of Three, 

and a small career to tell one's own children about the universe?

How can it be broad to be the same thing to everyone, 

and narrow to be everything to someone? 

No. 

A woman's function is laborious, 

but because it is gigantic, 

not because it is minute. 

I will pity Mrs. Jones for the hugeness of her task; 

I will never pity her for its smallness.” 

- g.k. chesterton

counting these moments (and this task) as precious today. lest they fly past without imprinting themselves on my heart.

love.