baby-hand-in-mom-hand

My thoughts lead me down a path that I do not believe I am intended to go, but the path stretches before me and elicits words my sinful heart aches to embrace and my tickled ears long to hear.

“I feel so small. I feel completely forgotten.”

“I can’t do this. It requires too much.”

My longing for sleep is interrupted by the sound of crying.

Again.

If I could just sleep, or truthfully if I could just escape, and for now sleep is the only means of escape. It’s as if my brain is melting. My past, my memories, my education, relationships, knowledge, goals, dreams are all losing their intended usefulness and are melding into a putrid mess.

I no longer exist.

I have become a “what could have been” cliché. I am that weak woman, that “you sacrificed your possibilities to be a mother” woman.

I do not matter anymore.

I am losing my chance at success and life fulfillment.

Another shrill cry wafting from the nursery — louder this time.

Why me?

Why must it be me that answers the cry? I don’t want to do this anymore. It requires far too much.

Like the walking dead, or a silent drone on a mission, I do what I must do to stop the crying. Change the diaper, embrace, sway gently, pat lightly, provide nourishment.

Tiny hands clasp bare skin and I hear gurgling as my eyes travel down.

I stare blankly at the wriggling in my arms. Little bright eyes grow wider and light up, which awakens a dulled mom heart.

I slightly squint focus afresh, the corners of my mouth tilt up slightly and soft lines form at the edges of my weary eyes.

My heart hears a whisper from above, “You are highly favored.”

As if a power point was on slideshow the blessings of my life begin to click through my clouded head. So much life.

What I grasp in the recognition of much blessing is the knowledge that it is more than simple provision … it is God’s unmerited grace.

The zombie induced bitterness that had taken hold shatters and broken pieces are blown into oblivion as the Holy Spirit wafts in to breathe new life.

My cheeks grow cold from healing salt tears.

I treasure up all these things and ponder them in my heart.

“Lord, may I never see motherhood as a burden or interruption, but as the highly favored gift that it is. May my daily life as a mom bring glory to You. Guide me to willingly, joyfully give of myself fully and gratefully receive your grace.”

All to Jesus I surrender. All to Him I freely give.

I will ever love and trust Him, in His presence daily live.

I surrender all, I surrender all, all to thee my blessed Savior.

I surrender all.