The next big thing

For me that is. It's been an occasional topic of conversation for months. It's been the subject of some anticipation, some fear and an increasing level of busyness lately. It's only four weeks away.
It's my return to working life.

I was midway through the bottle routine last night - just done washing and not yet started filling - when I felt the need to stop, sit down and pray. Normally such urges come with a specific person in mind, maybe a known situation or a vague sense of need. Tonight I had already sat down before I realized I didn't know what I was to pray for. A number of people have been on my heart in passing today, so I thought, "Okay, Lord. I'll just spend some time on those and follow your lead." I felt pretty sure that a significant focal point would come out of that.
I was a few stops down the list before I caught that still small voice. (Not an audible voice, just a sense for me.) Something to the effect of, "That's all well and good, but what about you?"
"Huh? Well, I guess I should pray about all this stuff coming up." I did. Or I tried to. It was like having a severe case of writer's block in the middle of a conversation. Later, when the bottles were done, I started this post, but set it aside when I realized I still hadn't made it past the surface in prayer. What could I honestly write to finish it?
The last big thing was the arrival of Tweetie. And even before she was conceived, I was coming time and again to God, saying, "I need you to be with me on this. I can't do it on my own." The image of my pregnant figure folded on my knees with arms outstretched (a mental image that accompanied the right attitude at least - most of my prayers were done in comfy chairs) is burned into my mind.
I came back to prayer this morning, having showered early, and awaiting Tweetie's wake up. After considerable fumbling, I think I've finally started to get the point. I've been working pretty hard at getting all my ducks lined up, preparing myself and Tweetie for the transition, and generally working to improve my odds as I set forth to do this on my own. Perhaps I've taken the wrong lesson from my little girl?
So, I'm praying again. Lord, let me see this transition through your eyes. Let me be guided by you in the choices and preparations I'm making. I am so grateful for the time I've had to spend with my daughter, your gift, and for all the growth you've brought us through. I thank you again for all the grace you have poured out on me and my family in this season, and I pray that you would keep me from guarding my heart against your continued outpouring as I return to work. Draw me to you when I need help to find balance. Draw me to you for wisdom in parenting. Draw me to you for strength to stand apart in the workplace. Keep me mindful of the other plans you have for me, and of new doors opening.
A song, Someday by Over the Rhine comes to mind. The second verse and chorus:

and if you need my attention
be bizarre
feel free to ignore convention
(it's alright)
and if it's a matter of permission
you can do me harm
i wouldn't miss it for the world

someday
i'll pray
don't leave me alone

Good day

I absolutely love days like this. The sun is shining, but it's cool in the morning, so you've slept well and the air is fresh. If I could live my entire life in late May and June, I would. When I was a kid, of course, a big part of the attraction was school was almost done and my birthday was coming. Now, it's the long days, ensuring that whatever hours I'm working, I get to enjoy a bit of daylight, and I can wear cool, comfortable things in the office. Sandals. Perhaps even a loose skirt (for those of you in shock at that last item, yes, I do own one, and I actually do like wearing them if it's warm enough to skip the nylons).
Best of all, it's the kind of weather where I find it really easy, if you can find that moment, to enter into a place of grace and be still before the Lord.
That's how my day started. I woke up gently, that is without any urgent paging, and stretched awhile in bed in the vain hope that my feet would be functional by the time I got to the steps. Downstairs I let the dogs out and fished out a bottle for the still dreaming Tweetie. In the basement I dished out the dogs' breakfast and let them back in, then headed back up. Grabbed the warming bottle and a glass of juice for myself, then back up the main stairs to the nursery and my comfy feeding and prayer chair.
A short time of stillness and listening, then prayer for a couple of folks with big days ahead. (One goes for knee surgery today, the other's off work starting today to get ready for her wedding on Saturday - woohoo!) Not my longest or deepest time, but it felt just right for today, and it left me just time to get a good start on this post before Tweetie awoke. Actually. I was typing away and looked back over my shoulder to see to big beautiful eyes staring up at me. And when I looked back there erupted her great good morning smile. It bodes well for the rest of the day, so I'd best get on with it.
Hope you all have a good one, too!

Be Still

It was late January, I think. Sleeping through the night still meant I got a few end of day tasks done after putting T to bed and got more than my full four-hour cycle of sleep before getting up for a feed and putting her back to sleep and deciding whether a shower or more sleep was more important to me that day. I'd developed a habit of using those minutes feeding her when no-one else was around or awake to pray. Praying for missionary friends, concerns and issues I knew about, people I'd lost touch with, our new family. It was always a bonus when I found myself done whatever must do task I'd assigned myself for the current 'window' and was expecting the next call to duty sooner than would be useful for 'real work'.
I'd sit in the chair in the nursery and rattle off the list of prayer items, dwelling on persons or topics as I felt led. In the days after it happened, I knew I'd have to post about it, and I remembered all the details of the moment in my mind, but had no idea how to put it out there. Now the details are much fuzzier. I think I was particularly harried that day, as I was rattling far more than I dwelled. I think, in fact, I was more than a little overwhelmed with the chaos around me, the demands of motherhood, the tension between my roles as mother and wife. I took one of those bonus moments where there was a physical break in the day, and came before God in prayer. My thoughts tumbled forward in my mind. As I paused for just a second to catch my mental breath, two words came back.
Be still.
Be still, yes. I have to take advantage of these times to come before you Lord, to present my concerns, to lift up others in prayer.
Be still.
Yes. I must leave the laundry for now and the dogs will have to get walked in the afternoon because T will be up any minute. Should I go start a bottle warming while I wait?
Be still.
Yes, okay, leave the bottle. Yes, Lord. I know that you are God. That verse was in a song I knew as a young Christian. You are God and you're in control. Thank you. I know I couldn't do this without you.
Be still.
Yes. Set everything aside and talk to you.
Be still.

Oh.


For just a few moments, just long enough for it to sink in, I managed to just be still. In the next window I looked up the passaged I'd remembered, but soon forgot it again. The words echoed around me through the next week, and I took time again to search for the phrase in the word.
The passage that was familiar, the one I expected, the one I knew from songs, "Be still, and know that I am God,"came from Psalm 46:10. The psalm speaks of the Lord's protection, his power, his sovereignty. I was pretty comfortable with God being big enough for the challenges that come (not that I don't often need reminding in the storm).
There was also a reference in Nehemiah that didn't seem to apply, and references to stilling the storm. But then there was another psalm, and it stopped me short. "Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act.." The psalm speaks of trusting the Lord when it appears from our view, that things are not as they should be. It speaks of letting him guide you to do things his way, and wait patiently until he does whatever it is he has planned.
That sounds an awful lot like giving over to him the things I haven't dared to believe for. The hopes that seem too far off to ask for. The works in progress that I can't actually see progressing.

In the months since, I've tried to keep that perspective in mind. I've tried to take time to be still, not just sitting still in my chair, but still in my mind. I thought of it again this weekend as I attended Good Friday and Easter services with a seven month old child. Your focus is not entirely (not even close) on the speakers and events before you. It reminded me that even as we look to connect with a local congregation again, the responsibility to take time to listen for God's direction for me, as often as I can, is mine alone.
Here I am. I'm listening.