listening ::

{photo property of
and used with permission
by gypsymothsol}

when i was little, there was a poem i used to whisper

:: is anybody listening, listening...

and i said it in little-girl hush, and giggles accompanied each little word as i held my fingers against my lips and whispered. and sometimes i say it in adult groan where there is no one listening, no one seeing me. i mean, i'm here, don't you know that? but no one listens.

and i feel tiny. everyone does sometimes, but in this blogging world, it's hard not to be drowned out by a crushing roar of words that overwhelm and make me feel like my fingers are reaching up for a tiny bit of oxygen and i'm whispering

:: is anybody listening, listening...

but there's something profound about the whisper, even if no one else hears the words that leave your lips. because Lion's ears are acute and they pick up on everything. i swear the little tears that plink against the glass in His hand are the loudest chimes to Him.

and i haven't written a book. but something i wrote earlier this week made a splash and my brokenness was heard, louder than i anticipated. and i'm learning that there is someone listening, just the right someone. it doesn't have to be kings and queens up on the high places, but that tear-stained momma tugging herself to fit the mold that doesn't fit on her like it does on the other "hers" across the street.

and maybe it's just the plink of a tear in the bottle. one little drop.

but i promise
He is listening, listening...

{linking five minutes of uncensored stream of consciousness with the gypsy mama}

week seven :: brushing mother

{via pinterest}

and this marks seven weeks, and one week, too. because it was a week ago today that i discovered that my body was home to another, that i was no longer one person walking the earth. i was now two.

but the little ticker that changed from sweet pea to blueberry today made my heart do a flip, and a smile pull my lips upward and left them unshaken for the majority of this day.

even among the frustrations and the irritations that life brings, i touch my stomach and remember that it's one week less until i meet my long-awaited stranger.

looking at my body, you can't tell that i'm expecting. not really. it's a secret that i carry from the rest of the world, from the people passing me on the street or at the bank.

the exhaustion is expected, and i'm learning to breathe through it as it crashes over me in waves.

because i'm sand being molded, harsh edges worn down until i'm smooth and ready with each wave and each new facet that reminds me that i'm thirty-three weeks away from everything changing.

{via pinterest}

but hasn't it already? 

it's more than just cravings for macaroni and cheese with hot sauce, or Asian asiago chicken salad. it's more than the water that i'm chugging by the bottle and the deep desire for the caffeine that i am slowly abandoning. it's more than vivid dreams and restless sleep.

it's this realization that sacred has taken up residence in my body. it's as though He's whispering to my soul on the daily basis

be full of Me, daughter

as you are full of this. 

do you see, even a little

how much I love you?

and i'm still singing the Lion's song. note by note from His heart to mine and into tiny ears that are just beginning to form. 

and it's seven weeks when i've only known for one. and that amazes me daily as i'm seeking to walk this path of sacred realization. a warrior now fighting for two with a King fighting for her. 

and i whisper to this tiny blueberry in my tummy

please know Him. 

know Him as you know Him now. 

learn His Name outside as you sing it within.