Upon re-entering physical therapy, I am always asked to fill out a form. One of the questions I answered last week:
In the last year, have you lost a loved one, had a major job change, or become pregnant?
Why yes! It's like they know me. Honestly, with as much time as I've spent in physical therapy, they should know me. I digress.
That standard question on the standard form has me thinking tonight as those events seem inextricably bound together in my mind. Matt and I have had four major losses in three years. We carry that grief right alongside the joy of this new life.
Tonight, as I find myself face to face once again with my shortcomings, clinging desperately to Romans 8:1, there are other voices I'm trying to hear. What would my Grammy say? Would she be telling me not to give this another thought? To focus on this sweet baby? Would Papaw be here saying not to worry because he'd worry enough for the both of us? Just as I go back to the bible to hear truth, I go back to the words spoken over me for over twenty-five years. I think about all of these incredible people. I think about John as a grandpa (oh, he would have beamed), how Papaw would have worried about me through this pregnancy, and I picture Eric doing a Cowardly Lion impression to make our child laugh. I mostly think about Grammy. She was one of my best friends. I think about how much fun we would have had together, knitting and cuddling and taking this baby to Broadway! I like to think she's proud. I like to think I'm following in her footsteps. I would give anything right now to curl up in her lap and ask her a million questions and then lose to her in a game of cards. Tonight, when I'm fighting the urge to condemn myself, I just wish I could call Papaw and hear his completely non-objective opinion that I couldn't possibly do any wrong. Sometimes, a girl just needs that kind of nonsense!
As I grapple with trying to forgive myself, I wonder how many times I'll need to walk that out in motherhood. How many times will I fail? It spurs me on, thinking of how I'll need to be stronger and better for this child, how he or she will need to see a mom who makes mistakes, asks for forgiveness, and lets go. I have to be a mom who models grace, even for myself. If I can't accept grace for myself, how can I genuinely extend it to others? I have to live it because I believe it.
As I trust myself to hear my Heavenly Father's words, I'm also trusting myself enough to believe I know the words my Papaw and Grammy would speak over me. I'm trusting myself to hear truth. As I think about what I want to give to this child, truth is as the top of the list. I want to do the job well enough so that one day, when the world tries to tell my baby who she (or he, if Matt is right!) is, this baby won't believe it. I pray this baby will hear my words even if I'm not there to say them, and that my words would be His words. Much of motherhood seems to be about trusting yourself and teaching your child to trust you and over time, to trust herself.
I pray my child will always go back to the Word for identity, and that the enemy would have no air time. May the words of this family be labels of redemption and freedom and truth because of His grace. May this child trust God's words because they are the words lived out in this home and hidden in our hearts.
In the last year, have you lost a loved one, had a major job change, or become pregnant?
Why yes! It's like they know me. Honestly, with as much time as I've spent in physical therapy, they should know me. I digress.
That standard question on the standard form has me thinking tonight as those events seem inextricably bound together in my mind. Matt and I have had four major losses in three years. We carry that grief right alongside the joy of this new life.
Tonight, as I find myself face to face once again with my shortcomings, clinging desperately to Romans 8:1, there are other voices I'm trying to hear. What would my Grammy say? Would she be telling me not to give this another thought? To focus on this sweet baby? Would Papaw be here saying not to worry because he'd worry enough for the both of us? Just as I go back to the bible to hear truth, I go back to the words spoken over me for over twenty-five years. I think about all of these incredible people. I think about John as a grandpa (oh, he would have beamed), how Papaw would have worried about me through this pregnancy, and I picture Eric doing a Cowardly Lion impression to make our child laugh. I mostly think about Grammy. She was one of my best friends. I think about how much fun we would have had together, knitting and cuddling and taking this baby to Broadway! I like to think she's proud. I like to think I'm following in her footsteps. I would give anything right now to curl up in her lap and ask her a million questions and then lose to her in a game of cards. Tonight, when I'm fighting the urge to condemn myself, I just wish I could call Papaw and hear his completely non-objective opinion that I couldn't possibly do any wrong. Sometimes, a girl just needs that kind of nonsense!
As I grapple with trying to forgive myself, I wonder how many times I'll need to walk that out in motherhood. How many times will I fail? It spurs me on, thinking of how I'll need to be stronger and better for this child, how he or she will need to see a mom who makes mistakes, asks for forgiveness, and lets go. I have to be a mom who models grace, even for myself. If I can't accept grace for myself, how can I genuinely extend it to others? I have to live it because I believe it.
As I trust myself to hear my Heavenly Father's words, I'm also trusting myself enough to believe I know the words my Papaw and Grammy would speak over me. I'm trusting myself to hear truth. As I think about what I want to give to this child, truth is as the top of the list. I want to do the job well enough so that one day, when the world tries to tell my baby who she (or he, if Matt is right!) is, this baby won't believe it. I pray this baby will hear my words even if I'm not there to say them, and that my words would be His words. Much of motherhood seems to be about trusting yourself and teaching your child to trust you and over time, to trust herself.
I pray my child will always go back to the Word for identity, and that the enemy would have no air time. May the words of this family be labels of redemption and freedom and truth because of His grace. May this child trust God's words because they are the words lived out in this home and hidden in our hearts.
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