vulnerability

"Forgetting what is behind, and straining toward what is ahead. I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."

It was as i was looking forward to Christmas that i realized that my heart felt lighter. It felt like i was finally released from the sickness of grief and sorrow. i felt happy and hopeful. Despite horrendous morning sickness, i was excited to go spend Christmas with my in-laws. New Years came - and the lightness didn't go away - or rather... my sorrow didn't return - and i felt like i had finally - after a year - gained enough distance to appreciate a little bit of perspective.

Healing can come so slow sometimes.

i was talking to a friend one day who drew the comparison of Lot's wife - who became a pillar of salt when she couldn't stop looking back at the complete destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. She said, she thought maybe we can be a little bit like that when we allow our eyes to become transfixed by the devastation in our past - sometimes we need to look ahead a little bit and press on, putting one foot in front of the other until we're out of the thick of it lest we become completely immobilized by the chaos we're leaving behind.

Maybe i've been a little salty this year...

So i was thinking about blogging forward.
And i realized that one of the things that i lost this past year was a tiny bit of my willingness to make myself vulnerable. What if someone uses my vulnerability against me? What if my weakness are wielded like a weapon? What if my struggles are lauded as failures and my intentions questioned and ridiculed. What if everyone around me changes - and i find myself alone and unloved?
Yeah? What then?
The reality is: i will fail. i'm human and vulnerable but if i ever want to be used - i'm going to have to be authentic... and that will always leave room for the scorn of others.
But the reality is also this: this blog has never - ever - been about the infallibility of Paige. It has always and only been about the Goodness of God.
And that?
That won't change.
And so i'll blog - if He asks me to... and i'll blog oftener - if i ever get my computer fixed.
And maybe i'll learn one day to understand the destruction in my past without letting it immobilize me - or define me - or limit what i can or cannot do.
Because, "our citizenship is in heaven and we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ, who by the power that enables him to bring everything under his control will transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like [His]."

And do i ever want to be like Him.

fourth son

Hi dolly.
i keep thinking about you.
It's actually fairly constant.
At nearly 20 weeks, you're big enough to make yourself known in my shape, in my agility, in my night wakings with your gentle nudges and rollings...
You're my son.
My fourth son.... my eighth child...
And it struck me tonight as i was driving down the road, turning a corner that will lead me straight to our house - your house too -  that sits on a bustling street in our little neighborhood... That you're my first.
You're my first you.
Nobody will stretch me as a mother like you will.
Nobody will bring home the friends that you will.
Nobody will smell just exactly the way that you smell - or impact our family the way that you already have.
It looked like, in the ultrasound, you had a profile somewhat like Gage's... It seemed to me, that your little feet were turned quite a bit - just like all your brothers feet have been. You, like your siblings before you, are a combination of genes from your tall impatient daddy and your short irritating mama...
But you're the only you.
Nobody elses genes will make quite the combination that yours will - to create just the person that God destined you to be...
Our fourth son.
And i find that i can't wait to lay my eyes on you.
i wonder at a loving Father who chose to send you... to us... right now...
He saw fit to send you to a loud house. One with lots of bodies, one with a daddy who travels and a mama who just came through a hard year. He decided to send you to me now - when i'm ripe with age and experience. Daddy has way more grey in his hair... i have way more creases around my eyes. He blessed this mama with you when your sister talks about her grade 12 year coming up, graduation, moving out, college and life and everything that comes after...

And i wonder sometimes, little son of my heart... if you'll know... if you'll understand... your uniqueness. There is a purpose and a plan for your life - you are the workmanship of a creative Father. You were created to do good things - which have already been planned in advance for you to do.
And as you grow - i grow - both physically and spiritually... to accommodate you in my body, in my life, in our home, in this family... You and i are probably the most aware of this growth - my body holding yours as it develops within.
And so i suppose it's no wonder that you're so constantly on my mind.
There is so much that i wonder about you...

And yet enough that i know:

Your life was breathed by God. You were created in His image. You were not brought to life by my will or your daddy's - but by the will of God.
This. This is enough.
i trust God - who sent you - who gives good gifts - and who gave us to each other.
And baby, i hope you will too.

Little Tie-Maker...

Well i gotta say... it's kind of a big deal around here. :) Nearing the halfway mark with this little one and going crazy trying to think up the perfect name.
We thought he looked a little bit like Gage when we watched him on the ultrasound.
What a miracle...

*instagram - solace2

the air i breathe

Last year was a good year. A hard year, yes - but hard is often good when there's growth to gain and i do feel like i've grown.
i took my parent's divorce really, really hard. i lost a precious relationship. i lost a tiny baby... And then a myriad of insignificant struggles that just added to the weariness of the continuation of the journey.
And a lot of the year i felt like i was in a sandstorm. Just little bits of things flying in my face, taking out pieces of exposed flesh and making me cover my eyes and face, trying to protect myself.
It made for less blogging - more clinging.
i was talking to my friend the other day - it seems to me, she has been in a bit of a sandstorm this year too - and i said, "Do you ever just want to say to God, 'Hey, i already learned this bit, remember? i've got that one covered - you didn't need to take again to show me, i didn't need this pain to teach me... i had it already - this sorrow is a bit of a pointless sorrow, isn't it, Father?'"
And my friend kind of sighed a bit in recognition of that questioning emotion, but then spoke a deeper, less arrogant truth...
"It reminds me how desperately i need Him. It reminds me how utterly broken, unable and prone to sin i am."
And i know it's so - but it took a few more days for it to really sink in for me.
We were in church - and the youth leading worship sang the song, This is the Air i Breathe...
And i couldn't get out the first word.
Oh, sustaining Air i breathe, Daily Bread, One who rescues me in desperation... Only a year like that; with a constant sandstorm - could so beautifully illustrate my minute by minute need for my Saviour.
i opened my mouth to sing the second verse, but no sound came out and i gave up, sank to my seat, and acknowledged that without Him... i'm bankrupt.
Almost feels like a corner turned with this Christmas season... A season of painful anniversaries was over - and i kept repeating to myself the truths that i had uncovered in the dark year - even when they didn't feel like the truth.
i welcomed the New Year with a sigh of relief and joy; with a deep, profound sweetness that comes from knowing i love - and i'm loved too.

And so i'll learn it again, if you choose to teach it again, Father. i'll be reminded over and over of my brokenness and how desperately i need you. And when you bring me into the sandstorm, i'll remember to go back again and again to my source - my sustenance...
the air i breathe.

you know what i love?

i was thinking today as i watched my little hatchling happily climb out of the car - what a beautiful balance there is in humanity between what we choose and what is chosen for us.
My big daughters seem to be changing every day - physically, spiritually, emotionally... growing in every imaginable way...
And there are parts of their personalities that were designed by a very creative God when He knit them together in the secret place. There might by a certain shyness, or bubbling creativity, propensity to anger or an overwhelming compassion. There might be knit right into the very fabric of their DNA - an illness that we know nothing about - or the right combination of genes for a long, healthy life. Their hair colour was chosen for them, as was their stature, the shade of their skin, the flecks of colour in their eyes... And all of these big and tiny things were not things they chose - but things that were bestowed upon them... welcome or not. Burden or gift. To bear or to enjoy.
And then, along side these parts hand picked by their Creator... i'm noticing more and more that with grace and age and maturity... there are parts of them that are emerging that were not given... they've been chosen.
These are the parts as a mama that capture my attention and make me furrow my brow in rapt interest.
These parts are really, really hard to put into words. i've sat here typing out the beginnings of thoughts several times and every one was a fail... Maybe partly because i don't want to expose my vulnerable littles at a time of exquisite growth... and partly too, because the choices i see them making can hardly be named - they're so minute (sometimes only a degree or two...) - and yet i know that these choices have the capacity in a journey of miles and miles... years and decades... to ultimately bring them to a vastly different countryside than they would have arrived at had they not *chosen* to make the 2 degree change in their compass now - at such a fragile stage of development.
i've seen pride deliberately deconstructed and set aside.
i've seen truth displayed that might easier have remained hidden.
i've seen internal battles - wars waged - epic roaring engagement with the enemy... when i - as a child - might have just chosen to play dead... or wish myself dead... or believe myself dead...
i've seen self-pitying martyrdom recognized and rejected in favour of work ethic.
i've seen softness chosen when hardness is felt.
i've seen gratitude become a lifestyle in a world of entitlement.
i've seen joy and confidence overcome fear and rejection.
And i'm realizing now as i type this that it might sound like i think my kids are perfect. They're not. They struggle and make poor choices too... they lose battles and get beat up and live defeated....
But not always...
And i'm finding that raising these little ones has caused me to reflect on the truth that i too, was born with certain qualities determined for me. My laugh is an enormous cackle, my feet are really tiny, i have a little birth defect in the middle of my spine...
But there are things that have been left up to me too... i can live free, i can see the good, i can choose love, i can cling less to what i'm owed and more to my Saviour... can't i?  i can smile more, i can pay better attention, i can let hope win over despair, i can choose to see the unlikely truth over the likely lie... won't i??  And the choices that i've recently seen my teens making inspire me as a mama - as a beloved child of God - to press on and daily allow those delectable choices to carry me to places i'll only get to see... because it's been up to me.