Have you ever wished you could read someone else’s journal? Not to uncover juicy secrets, but to discover how that person wrestled through the ups and downs of everyday life?
I have. There is something immensely helpful about peering beneath a veiled exterior and seeing the inner workings of another’s spiritual journey.
I’ve decided to give you something dear to me: my journals. Not because they contain anything profound. But because I’ve often wanted the gift of seeing how another woman processed and responded to life.
So, you’ll notice a new flavor when it comes to the blog. I’ll still write articles from time to time, but mainly you’ll see journal entries dated anywhere in the last 2 decades. I’m going to start with a day not too far back, but don’t be surprised if I bounce around through different seasons of my life.
I love every one of you Dear Ones to pieces.
March 6, 2018
Laura Ruth arrived Friday afternoon at 3:40. Perfectly healthy, perfectly beautiful. After my most difficult delivery and her daddy passing out during the last push, we spent a blissful two nights in the hospital doing nothing but holding and loving her. I could not be more smitten. I’m overwhelmed at this little gift and feel she is a reward for something I do not deserve.
We came home Sunday to a party planned by my other four. Pink decorations. A cupcake carefully plated complete with a candle. Titus asked his Dad to say a blessing and then instructed everyone on how to fix their plates. Afterwards, they took turns holding Laura. The sweetness is etched in my mind. All of them, from the biggest to the least were smitten.
It was a rough few days after that. Laura was fussy and unsettled. Totally different from the baby we left the hospital with. I nursed constantly, through awful pain, hoping to have the supply to sustain this one. Yesterday at 4:30, I sat on the floor of my room, crying, and prepared a bottle. She took it like a starved animal and has been different since. I’ve grieved again, despite knowing this scenario was likely.
This morning, though, I poured a cup of coffee, made her a bottle, and introduced her to the Sacred Porch. She is sleeping like a little pink dream now, as I marvel at her with tears streaming down. It’s raining. And everything is going to be okay.
Thank you for this gift, Lord. You outdid yourself on this one. May she, and all four of the others, know the depth of my love. The depth of yours. Thank you for rekindling my heart toward motherhood through an unexpected baby. The Gift Baby.
Suddenly five children doesn’t seem like so many.