Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Turning Pages

I haven't made much time for writing lately.

It's a new reality that I am simultaneously hating and embracing. Hating, because I am always thinking, musing, lining up words and ideas, wanting desperately to pen them down, keep them fast and that is just not happening. But I am also embracing this new way because I am really here, in this moment and that last one and that other one last week where I gazed upon orange colored skies wrapped in a wide open rainbow. Yeah, that one.

But I had to stop today and remember a few things. Because some things you just don't ever want to forget.

I am growing a life inside of me for the third time but the hugeness of that still catches me by surprise some days. Such as the tiredness that encroaches upon every square inch of skin and bone and muscle and demands that I and rest. And so I do. I stop and stretch out upon my bed and I let myself sink into cushion and blanket and holy rest. And that baby hidden deep? He tickles me from the inside, thanking me for that little bit of extra room that lying on my side provides him. It is then that I realize that I am so very human and what is happening inside of me is so very God and I can't help but smile at the absurdity of it all.

Then there are the moments when I realize that conversations with my two boys have started to include subjects and topics that stretch beyond Legos and Iron Man and Hank the Cowdog. They are asking bigger questions now, questions about relationships and current events and sex. And every time we close out those talks, its as if I'm turning pages of their childhood at a faster pace and I can see how the paper is curling and yellowing, as if we are coming dangerously close to the end of a chapter.

Surprisingly, I realize that I am okay with that. I'm excited for new chapters and story lines and plot twists.

But then the aforementioned tiredness will, again, wash over me and I am reminded of the return to babyhood that is imminent. And I sigh. Will I remember how to do all of this? When I slow to the pace that mothering an infant requires, will I end up sputtering to a tragic end, like my old Nissan? How will I manage to stay connected to the boys that are growing taller by the day and reaching further into the future than I can see when I am totally consumed with free flowing breastmilk and piles of laundry? What does bridging that huge gap even look like?

And then there will be a moment. The ones I have by the handful now.

Yesterday, as I sat in my chair, the baby deep within was alive and kicking and I called Aidan over to place his hand on my belly. I've tried this before but we always managed to miss the opportunity. But we tried again.

And there was a kick. I quickly looked at Aidan and he jumped in place and hollered that "HE HAD FELT IT!" and his smile--his smile that would soften the hardest heart--it shone glory and his eyes danced with pure joy. And in that moment, we were all connected and alive and in love.

It was then that I realized that there is no gap too wide that love can't bridge and that, sometimes, what brings the world to its softest place, the place where heart fires are kindled and hope is born, most often, is a baby.

Linking today with Emily at Imperfect Prose.


  1. Holly, this is beautiful. Holy rest for holy work...may God grant you wisdom and peace- new pages are being added to your book, and that is so exciting.

  2. I cried reading this. And here's why: because, I don't know if I want to do it over again. And, it's a dream that I had that took EIGHT years to finally receive a droplet of possibility rain down when for all that time I just had a swelled up sky full of hope. It required me to surrender and then surrender turned into pride because it came so hard and heavy and I became so resentful, fearful and just so darn frustrated. In all this waiting I became like a child with her arms crossed saying "But I don't want it anymore!" when now it looks like it might be so. And now when I am being asked to surrender the other vision -- the one of adoption that I stepped forward to pursue in the waiting -- and so now it's just so confusing. And your words . . . they are such a healing balm for me to remember that life comes from Him and it's joy and a blessing and He will prepare us and provide for us and purposes us and them. (can you tell the emotions with all these run-ons?) {hugs}, friend.

  3. I like that -- "Holy rest for Holy work". Yes. This.

  4. Dear Holly
    It truly is a holy moment when you feel that first movement of your baby during pregnancy. But, even greater, is when your children feel it too and realize that there is a little brother or sister growing inside mom's belly! I can just imagine what Aiden must be thinking and the plans he is already making for this new sibling!!

  5. Holly, I wish I could place my hands right there on that little mound of love and life and fluttering holiness. Peace to you in this co-creation time with our God. May all be well in your body and soul.

  6. Holly - I think God gave us babies to give us hope! Time and time again, a child born in our family was a time of coming together, healing, overcoming, laughing, rejoicing, and cheering in the blessed joy of life, new life, the miracle of it all! My heart leapt as I read your story. Beautiful things happening in the slow lane.....

  7. Ashley Tolins LarkinJune 5, 2013 at 3:44 PM

    Holly, thank you for sharing these moments with us. The exhaustion and exhilaration, the pure unadulterated joy. These experiences so personal and holy. Praying daily bread for you, friend. And the words will come here when they are to come. Grace, grace, and love too. Blessings, friend.

  8. And every time we close out those talks, its as if I'm turning pages of
    their childhood at a faster pace and I can see how the paper is curling
    and yellowing, as if we are coming dangerously close to the end of a

    Just blown open by this post. Tears in my eyes. I feel so in-tune with you right now, being full of baby now too and watching my two boys grow (although they're not talking about sex yet, thankfully :))... oh friend. I'm glad you're taking time to live. But never stop writing okay? Love you.

  9. Exactly true. A baby. Do you know this is a 'he?' Whichever, you carry God's good gift, even though pieces of it will always be hard. And tiring. I'm delighted to read your words anytime they find their way to this space, friend. Anytime.

  10. Yes, Diana, we now know it is a He! Still reeling from the idea of being completely outnumbered by males but I am also so grateful. It is always a pleasure to have you here.

  11. I know, Emily, "so full of baby" ...that is exactly it! Grateful to walk this path with you,friend, all of it.
    As for the writing part...I don't think I will ever be able to stop...
    love you!

  12. Thank you for your prayers, Ashley. I am buoyed and supported by them, truly. It is such a gift to be able to share these experiences with all of you and to feel like you are right there, rooting for me all along. I am so grateful for your friendship, Ashley.

  13. Yes..babies bring hope. And, yes, it is the magic that turns our families towards each other. Love your words here.

  14. Elizabeth, I wish you could too! Because I know that I would be like Elizabeth, pregnant with John, and that this babe hidden within would leap with recognition of your spirit whispers. Thank you for your love and support and prayers.

  15. Thank you for sharing in my joy. It means so much.

  16. Oh Amy, so much swirling down deep inside of you. I hear you, friend, I do. When expectations and plans and everything else get turned on their heads and we are just there, trying to make sense of it all...well, it can be lonely and confusing and downright frustrating as we try to figure out where in the world we are headed next. Perhaps, it is in those moments, that all we can do is raise our sail of trust and let the Spirit wind blow where it will. There is no telling what adventure is hidden in the fog.
    Praying with you, friend, for peace down deep.

  17. Yes, that is beautiful. Thank you, Natalie, for giving me a mantra to whisper when I must surrender and just be.

  18. I really love the way you do life Holly. Taking time for what is most needful, and you really must write. There is never time you know, just snippets tucked in here and there. And I was thinking as I read your glorious words of yellowing pages of the chapters of their lives, how gracious God is in the timing of all things. Your boys, they must grow up in order to welcome this new life. God orders all things doesn't He?

  19. "raise our sail of trust and let the spirit wind blow where it will be . . . adventure hidden in the fog." -- mmm, yes. just this.