shekhinah motherhood

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i have a new adventure.

i have started a mommy blog. i still cannot believe it myself. it's a new corner of the world for me, a place where i can write about my thoughts solely regarding pregnancy and this coming child.

and i want you all to share in this. i will most certainly still be writing here, hopefully more often as my body levels out and my mind clears itself. the Lion and i are drawing closer, and things are settling into peace now.

strivings do cease in His shadow. 

shekhina hmotherhood is my new corner.here i am practicing the presence of God as i walk down this path of pregnancy, motherhood, and eventually, cradling this child in my arms.

this firstborn of mine, this gift from God to be given back to God. these are the ponderings of my heart, this Mary-like attitude that overwhelms me as i discern what to share and what to treasure.

and so i am writing in two places now, and perhaps this may seem insane or too much. but we will see how things go, as weeks shorten and days become brighter. this child is coming soon, and i want to know and understand my mind in days to come when i look back and remember.

find me here, as always. but find me there now, too.

a sacred meal

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certain things have begun to monopolize my thoughts in recent days. some of these things are rich and deep, filling my hours with turning book pages and steaming cups of tea.

the other is food.

it's almost comedic how things that were once unnoticed are now suddenly the center of a growling stomach. and it's not just the flavour of food, as certain once-beloved tastes have faded into the background.

it's the cooking, the creation of things at my counters with flour and butter and cheese and a warm collection of spices that make my nose tingle and my tastebuds ponder as though they had their own minds.

there's a freshness, a newness to the creation of food. 

in some respects, it's a breathing. 

when simple items connect and join to become something new. it's knowing that i'm touching something important to God.

because even the Messiah, the King of the Universe, cooked for those He loved.

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the simplest meal of homemade bread and roasted fish over open flame, served on a beach for eleven frightened men once grieving and now faced with the Risen One again on the water's edge.

come and have breakfast.

so there is something blessed, something mysterious in food and the creation of a meal for those we love. it's more than just the caress of flavour on a palate. 

it's a sacred act, a humbling of self to the betterment of others. 

it's a warrioress' duty to provide for those in her care. with meals that take all day, or simple gifts of grilled cheese and chocolate chip cookies. 

it's still the echoing call of the Lion on the beach. 

I am the Bread of Life; 

he who comes to Me will not hunger 

and he who believes in Me will never thirst.

clinging power

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i feel like i've been on a train for a thousand years, and i'm watching the trees blur outside the window. and i got so caught up in the blur that i have missed my stop.

that is what these weeks have felt like to me. because i have been in this whirlwind where i feel gripped by the shoulders and the hair and tugged back and forth until night turns to day and day to night, and everything feels backwards.

but the Voice of the Lord was not in this storm.

He was in the still, and i lost Him for a minute. or rather, i shut Him out of my tornado. because i didn't want Him to see how badly my world was tossing, and i didn't want Him to be ashamed of me.

but oh, how blind i am. because He sees me, this God-Who-Sees. i have felt like Sarah, rejoicing for this child, and i have felt like Hagar in the wilderness, gripping to a bush for some sense of stability.

but He sees me. all of me, regardless of my rejoicing or my gripping.

and isn't this glory? 

because i feel like i'm finding my footing again. where the waves meet the ocean and tug back the vile and leave the sand clean, i feel like i'm lying here with the Water rushing over me and drawing back the impure.

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and i'm a lamb leaping in the Lion's shadow. no longer afraid, but living in Truth.

this is not a post to tell you that things have been bad, because they haven't been bad. they've been strange and foreign. this hasn't been a time of despair or excessive fear, just adjusting.

and so my clinging has come when i find myself inadequite, and seek my solace in the One who cups my face in His Hands and whispers

I have made you promises. now stand still, and see what I will do. 


so i've turned my eyes from the blur to the slow, and that is hard when things seem to be moving so fast and distractions abound.

but He sees. and i am standing still, hands raised and warrior cries flooding to Heaven.

and i'm slowly returning, not in this feeble power, but solely in the power of His might.

the Lord God is with me

the Mighty Warrior that saves. 

quarter til tomorrow

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it's quarter to tomorrow.

and i am awake and blogging. i am also clinging to a mug of ginger ale for dear life.

it is at times like this when my moments of poetic depth fly far, far away, and i am left with nothing but awkward ramblings and passionate pleas toward Heaven to keep from fleeing once again to the bathroom.

this baby is already driving me to my knees, for more than one reason. i never have felt so close to Christ as when i am clutching the bowl of the toilet, whispering please oh please Jesus, please as my stomach twists.

i am so humbled by this phase, this time of being pushed from my place of self-maintenance to that of needing so much help and so much rest, even to hold back my own hair.

and so i sit here in front of my computer at a quarter to tomorrow and i write. and i read blogs like this one where i can feel so much less afraid and maybe i can do this after all.

i am wracked with so much nausea that i can barely stand it, and even the effort of standing and heading to my bed is almost too much. but i'm okay, because i can blog and i can read and i can sip my ginger ale.

and i can watch bones and once upon a time and remember that i am a writer, though a pregnant one.

it lets me feel normal, moment by moment.

even at quarter til tomorrow.

dive

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sometimes people ask me how i intend to keep my warrior's heart alive with a baby on my hip. that it seems glorious now to speak of the sacred and of the Light, but that my time will come when infant cries and sleepless nights will overtake me and that i will flicker out from fancies into realities. 

these are the people that set my determination even deeper to swipe the paint beneath my eyes and grip the temple pillars with white-knuckled fingers. 

since when is the sacred a fancy? and when did motherhood kill the Light? 

have i missed something? 

a wise woman once told me that the weight of her son on her back bore her often to her knees. and isn't this how it should be? where children pull on skirts and guide closer and closer to the Cross, because children are warriors too. 

and i am ten weeks with this one, still silent save for the fluttering heartbeat beneath my skin. 

but this child will not blind my eyes from seeing Light or colour or Heaven's kiss along the earth. i know that it will be hard, and perhaps tears will blur or exhaustion with draw me down to my knees, but i will not be made blind.

:: He promised that i would never be blind again ::

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i feel like i have toes pressed against the dock with water lapping soft beneath, and the wind whispering brave through my hair. 

maybe this dock is higher than i think, perhaps a ship's yardarm. and there is still this whisking, flowing water beneath my bare feet. 

and i could dive, or i could stay on the edge and wonder always what would have happened if i let go and simply slipped from air to aquatic. 

i think.

no, i know. 

i'm diving. deeper than i've dared before. and i refuse to act as though i am unafraid, because i have shaking fingers. but i've put down roots of brave and i will let the still, small Voice whisper in the night.

courage, dearheart. 

for I have overcome the world.

breathing mama :: practicing peace

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i'm loving this freedom i'm feeling.

this freedom to just be and not do, to focus on my overwhelmed heart and not dwell on the placement of the words on the page. it's truly freeing to be like this.

i understand why Mary kept each thing close and pondered them deep within her heart. there's so much that floods my mind every single day, and i feel so close to exploding.

:: and i am practicing peace :: 

i'm not a mother, yet...am i? is it alright to have practices of parenting for something the size of a green olive that only makes its presence known in lack of sleep and overpowering nausea?

but i do. and i'm practicing peace.

because i want this child to know what i have learned, and i ache that it might not take so long. and i fear i might forget when this silence is replaced by screams and this beauty is replaced by sleepless nights and the desperation for just a moment of rest in the chaos.

but i want to wrap my arms around this child as i wrap my arms around my stomach now and whisper

peace I bring you

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not as the world gives. 

because i'm birthing into chaos and madness, a world that wants to pull my little one under with every lust and doubt and fear and loss.

this wants to turn my beautiful daughter into a stick figure, never thin enough but slowly dying inside and out. it wants to turn my strong warrior son's eyes into mirrors for disrespecting the women he is born to protect.

and that is almost enough to turn me to fear and tremble, and not the kind i should possess.

but i am striving, i am aching, i am seeking peace. my first practice of parenthood, even while my child is so small and knows nothing but love within.

in a world of dark, i want to whisper Light into this yet-forming ears. i want to sing the lilting notes of Lion's song into the silence.

in His presence, there is peace. and i am kneeling here with hands pressed to belly and eyes wide to bloodstained cross.

and i'm practicing peace.

am i overstepping by being this passionate already? 

wonder mother

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my mother is a superhero. and i wish i was her.

my entire life, she has been the most put-together woman i have ever known. my earliest memories are of her seated at her desk sipping at a silver, hand-held caraffe coffee with her hair laid perfect and her make-up pristine.

and i have strived to match her footsteps. and i am failing.

because as i write this post, i am clad in men's Dr. Pepper pajama pants with my hair tossed back in the messiest of ponytails, taking the smallest bites of applesauce from a plastic container in an effort to keep my stomach settled.

and i am about to be a mother myself. and i want to be the most pristine of women with my future children collected and composed. but if they are anything like me, they will be ruffians and i will be flustered perpetually.

that is, if i keep attempting to be a woman i am not. a woman that she has never asked me to be, and would never dream of requiring of me. time and time again, she tells me

be you. not me. 


and that's what i have to do. because it is weary being someone who is not me, and walking in shoes far too big for my small feet. and this is my motherhood journey, as she had hers with two daughters who both turned out a bit alright, i think.

and so i will reach out and take her hand for now. and when i get scared and when my little one is tucked away, i may run to her arms and weep for comfort that only a mother can provide.

she is my mother. i am not.

and for this, we are both grateful. and for this, we overflow.

i realized today that i have allowed this pregnancy to push away the corners of my brain. 

and i have forgotten to announce the winners of my last giveaway, which i was supposed to do in January. my goodness.

the winner of the Shabby Apple timepiece necklace is Ashley

the winner of the pearl earrings is Blythe.

congratulations, girls! contact me with your addresses as soon as possible!

and don't forget that you still have two days to enter the current giveaway.