Last week, I returned to the tranquil cottage where my daughter and I spent our first week out of the NICU. This time, I was taking a personal prayer retreat there; last time, I was quarantining my newborn from her sister’s flu germs. I had not been there in a year. And I had to spend the first fifteen minutes just experiencing the rush of emotional memories I felt walking into the space- it was a beautiful moment. One year ago, I was at a strange crux where 1) I had grown so much in faith after watching the Lord save both of our lives and uphold me spiritually through the five-month-long process, yet 2) I was so afraid about mothering four young children and, of course, of the flu. I remember praying God’s promises forward for strength to mother well and feel sustained. Standing in that room again last week, I could feel my old prayers and I could see God’s answers to them. It was a lot to take in. I will remember the moment forever.
The rest of my morning in the cottage was spent in the center of the bed with my Bible and old journals spread out in front of me. I read, prayed, wrote and beamed. I wonder though, why do I feel nostalgic for such a hard season? Guys, those were hard months- ambiguous, sleepless, lonely, plain scary months. But in the midst of the turmoil was this sweet sweet serenity- a gentle calm, a warm, soul-deep, restful inner quiet. Yes, there were moments wired with anxiety (as you saw in the blog posts), but God showed up. Even in the dark, he provided over and over. He showed me facets of his character that I didn’t know existed, he drew me nearer and held me more securely than I knew he would or could, he taught my heart to ask and seek and wait and receive. I believe bigger and am a different women, wife, mom and friend because of it.
I wrote to a friend recently, “I believe that someday you will look back on this year as a beautiful wrestling when you saw God anew and grew in unexpected ways. In your years of dancing, you will look back with knowing eyes on your years of wrestling with a soft thankful smile and praise Him.” Back in January 2018 I reflected on months in the hospital; in the same cottage in January 2019 I reflected on a year of motherhood. In both seasons, God has been both the power I needed to persevere and the peace I needed to rest. I can’t say that all of my hard moments were unfalteringly full of faith, because they weren’t. But every time I got over myself and humbly prayed for help, God responded. He gave me strength when I was tired and asked, gentleness when I felt like being harsh and asked. He softened hearts and brought reconciliation and wisdom and some solid lessons when I asked. Seeing how he answered my old prayers in 2018 emboldens me to pray and trust all the more in 2019. He grows my faith stronger yet.
Tomorrow is our miracle girl’s going home day anniversary, which also happens to be my birthday (what a gift). I expect that every January we will reminisce and rejoice with the Lord about how he has provided for our family and molded each of us more through the wrestling and the dancing. Here’s to a new year!
Heather
YOU MAY ALSO LIKE:
