savor | pregnancy | july 31 | at home with bb
my living abundantly where i am, as i am currently looks like the above photograph.
super full of life pregnant belly, smiling at my husband, in a field at sunset.
this is our right now.
it is sweet. it is full. it is joyous. it is magical. absolutely mysterious, delicious. the laughter is abundant. the anticipation is ridiculously high. some fears and anxieties creep up but mostly we can meditate and pray them away and feel calm again, at peace in our situation.
savor is one of my favorite devotionals. i've written about it before and i will do so again!
i gave you the link to purchase your own copy above, directly under the photograph of my own copy on my porch swing this morning.
out on the back deck. the morning is cool, wet with dew, and full of beautiful song bird sounds. i remember being little and my mom identifying the mourning dove sound. it's always been a favorite sound, reminding me of how i felt as a child. i'll never forget that sound or how much i love it. and i love birds. and i love mornings. so this morning i held my belly, full of life and sweet movement, and told my baby about mourning birds. and of course, of the sweet red cardinal that always greets me and sings to me in our yard.
i read the july 31st entry in savor last night before yoga, bible and bed.
it's the one about doing this life together. with the ones who are mourning and the ones who are delighting. she wanted to be pregnant and she keeps not being. while seventeen of her friends are pregnant. she said she needed something glass to break just to feel it shatter in her hands. gosh, haven't i been there. haven't you? her friend read her post (she had blogged about her feelings) and while at lunch the next day her very pregnant friend gifted her with safety goggles. she told her that she will be there to break things with her when she needs it. while she gets to and wants to celebrate with her pregnant friend, she is grieving and hurting her own loss and desire to have a baby and being unable to. i feel like my friends are as good as this one. the ones who have gone before me. with one or two or five or seven kids. for the eight years i've been married and desiring our family to start. one friend told me she was pregnant for the second time and made me promise to let her know when i was having a bad day about it. she is still my close friend today and i adore her for that time of life when she knew me well enough and deeply enough and wanted us both to be ourselves through this time. it was a mourning and rejoicing together time, those nine months. and probably because of her love and grace i was able to grow through my own struggles in new, better ways. and she just delivered her third baby, while i am due with my first in four short weeks. i actually joked years ago that she would be on her third while i'm on my first. and that's exactly what happened. (ethan jokingly blames me for this statement coming true, ha!) oy vey, the Lord has a sense of humor.
this seems to be the theme of my 20's with my married friends. and as we all navigate differently, the type of pain and struggle is the same. desire to control or change our own situation when we want to and how we want to.
i love the sound of mourning birds. and i think their name is quite fitting. it may at first seem sad to be called a mourning bird but they actually represent hope and renewal. their song may sound sorrowful but i think they sound deeply romantic and lovely. like there's a yearning behind their voices. like something beyond the sorrowful sound. this bird is also known as a rain dove. and i love mornings with sweet rain, morning dew and the sound of God's creation singing. it reminds me of the hymn in the garden, which is one of my all time favorites. i come to the garden alone while the dew is still on the roses. and the voice i hear, falling on my ear, the son of God discloses. he walks with me and talks with me and he tells me i am his own. the song ringing in my heart, the birds hush their singing. to hear the most Important Voice. i feel most close to God alone in the mornings. on my back deck. just like today. i feel optimism and hope and renewal as i sit alone, listen, and feel.
i feel how deeply good God is. after such loss. two years, two parents. gone.
after joyful news. two new babies. (my sister's fourth pregnancy and my first, announced within a month of each other). i remember being a young girl and having this deep longing in my soul. this deep, sorrowful yet joyful rhythmic hum in my heart. the repetitive tune of the mourning dove. the joy in the morning.
God was good when the sorrowful days were happening. those horrible, fresh days of shock and loss and instant grief and pain. i felt his goodness deep within. and he is good now, in the abundance and promise of new life. the joy and the sorrow mingle. in this life, forever. it's how this side of heaven works. the more we love, the more we feel the sting of any loss. but death has been defeated. and hope and renewal is coming again. to wipe all tears, all pain, and to restore this world.