A friend recently drew my attention to this post that I wrote three years ago. I am thankful that in many ways, life is not as hard as it was then. My oldest three children, now eight, six, and five, are SO helpful. And I am much more at peace with my life. With some hormonal supplementation and lots of prayer, I experience depression much less than I used to. We now have six children and are beginning the process to adopt #7! Yet, somehow, I feel a little less crazy than I did then. Rereading this today, it rings more true than ever.
I know what I think. I think we're more than a little crazy. We have four (now six) children already. Our oldest is five (now eight), and our youngest is five months (nineteen months). There are many (only some now, thankfully, since the depression is largely gone) days when I wonder how in the world I will survive the next five years--no, minutes. In nearly seven (now ten) years of marriage, we have yet to go more than nine months of our marriage without getting pregnant (nineteen months and counting now), and in addition to our four living children, we have had two miscarriages. In the natural, it makes sense that this would be a time to step back and regroup, not a time to step it up yet again.
And yet.
There is a burning in my heart that will not be ignored. And when I tap into that place, that God-space inside me, all of my objections are burned away in an instant. Suddenly I don't care how tired I am, how messy my house gets, or how much more I have to slow down my life. Suddenly I realize that my life is not getting more complicated by adding more children. No, with each additional child my life becomes less complicated. My focus turns more and more toward home, toward love, toward being. I have much less time and energy for outside activities and lots of doing. Instead, I find myself stopping, looking into little faces, smiling, laughing. Oh, there are still the moments (and they are many) when I think I am going to collapse under the drain of the continual need of the little people in my life. But then I am constrained once again to look at what I am really trying to do, who I am really called to be. To refocus my gaze. To stop trying so hard. To relax and let this season be what it is.
What is this season?
This is not a season for outward accomplishments. This is not a season for pursuing goals. This is not a season for being SuperMom. This is not a season for doing much at all.
And yet ... it is.
It is a season for digging deep. It is a season for gazing at the face of the One I love most in the countenances of His children. For wiping His tears, bandaging His owies, preparing His food, and, yes, even changing His diapers. It is a season for becoming less, less, and then much, much less, while He becomes more, more and more again within me, to me, through me, around me, above me, beneath me, permeating the very air I breathe.
It is a season for becoming, for discovering who I am in His heart as all my outward identities are stripped away. A season for being hidden in the palm of His hand, being fed from His table, and delighting in the intimacy of His gaze. A season for knowing that, though I am mostly invisible to the outside world, though most of my accomplishments go unnoticed, He sees. A season for learning that that is enough. It is more than enough. It is everything.
It is a season for learning that He is enough.
I meant to focus on adoption in this post, but my heart is so full that I couldn't even get that far. Think of this as the preamble. I have much more to share another time. For now, wherever you may be, whatever the circumstances in which you find yourself, I pray that in that very place you will find God. He is so worth finding that all the struggle becomes nothing compared with the delight of knowing Him.
For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, is working for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we do not look at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen. For the things which are seen are temporary, but the things which are not seen are eternal. (2Co 4:17-18 NKJV)