quick note about Isaak!

So my joyous moment arrived at last! My incredibly handsome son was born on July seventh, at six thirty in the morning. He was seven pounds, seven ounces. It's funny, but I didn't really think I could experience the kind of joy, love, and protectiveness that I had when I first delivered Emma, a second time... but I did! My son is heart of my heart, and flesh of my flesh. The miracle of birth astounded me yet again. The faithfulness that he possesses astounded me again as well, as I leaned on him throughout Isaak's birth and delivery.

Trust and Peace

It seems that once again, I am waiting for the arrival of the child inside my belly. As the time for him to enter into the world draws near, I find it harder and harder to think about anything else. I have never been a surprise person... and the nine months of anticipation ( all the while growing more and more physically uncomfortable) are difficult for me! It's not like Christmas... I can't unwrap him just to wrap him up again and have no one know the difference!

I don't think I realize how much I struggle with trying to control my circumstances, until I am completely out of control. I have no idea what time, what day, what moment my child will announce with tiny lungs his entrance into the world. I don't know how my labour will begin. I don't know how long it will last. Contrary to the somewhat popular belief by women who have never actually born babies into the world, I don't even know for sure what level of pain relief I will need, if any. I don't know if I will need to go on the drip. I don't know if I will even get my doctor. I don't know how things will go once I have completed the most satisfying task that I could ever ask to complete ( pushed him out). I don't know if he will be jaundice, how well he will nurse, or really anything. All of my plans fail in the sight of his plan; and he simply keeps telling me " Wait on me, my precious child, it will happen in my perfect time." Hmm. Even that brings about nothing but blind trust... because who knows what his "perfect time" is?

All I know is that I can't wait for those first labour pains. I can't wait for the long, intense, painful, and beautiful journey of brand new motherhood once again. I long to hold his tiny body, and nurse him for the first time. I am looking so forward to kissing his perfect face, and calling him by name. My little Isaak Travis.

So... I wait. As I wait, I draw so close to my Jesus, because only his strength could ever sustain me right now. He is the one who can convince me that my swelling belly is beautiful, and that I am beautiful despite swollen ankles, eyes, and fingers. He is so good to me. I love that I get to put my trust in the one person that I know is entirely trustworthy. I get to trust the timing, and the fulfillment, of this time, to a perfect father, brother, friend, and lover, who I know has my best interests in mind.

This, in itself, gives me peace.

I have been thinking lately about names. There are so many that we get called day to day. There are certain names that bless me, names that are romantic, cherishing, sweet.

I'll begin with the names my husband calls me. "Babe." Not overly romantic to me. Slang, acceptable, I don't think I would want anyone but Travis calling me that name. "Babe" doesn't make me feel cherished or loved, but it also doesn't make me feel demeaned, disrespected, or unloved.

Then there is " honey." Honey is a sweet name. It makes me feel an echo of love, an echo of being cherished and invaluable. It isn't a name that blesses me to my core, but it's a name that does let me know that I am loved.

I think my favourite that my husband calls me is "sweetheart." Perhaps sweetheart makes me feel as though he sees my heart, and that is the part of me that he values the most. More than laundry, chores, good cooking, it is a name that makes me feel as though my heart is the diamond within me. It makes me feel cherished for who I really am, what I really think, and what my heart desires most. I love being called sweetheart. It's innocent. There is no sexual connotation, it is a name that is filled with pure appreciation.

However, nothing can compare with the names that Jesus calls me. It is amazing how cherished and beautiful I feel when I know that he sees into my heart. He sees the yucky parts, the dark parts, the beautiful parts, the desperate parts... and he LOVES me. He calls me "Beloved." Nothing could make me feel more esteemed, more beautiful and valuable, more pursued, than knowing that my pet name from the God of everything around us, is " beloved."

We put so much stock in names. Last names mean the world to men, the passing on of the last name, it is an age old tradition. People call us mean names throughout our lives. There are names that are demeaning, names that are humiliating, names that bring shame and regret. There are names that we accept about ourselves, and names that we wholeheartedly reject.

" I am a people person."
"I am shy."
" I am a Christian."
" I am a romantic."
" I am an artist."
" I am a whore."

How many times to we accept something about ourselves without asking Jesus what he says? I am learning that the names that matter are the ones that he gives us. Those are the only names that we should accept.

" You are my beloved..."
" You are captivating..."
" You are lovely..."
" You are dressed in white..."

I know that I will never know myself as well as Jesus knows me. I will never value myself the way that he does. I just need to continue to listen for his names for me.

theology and sociology.

Lately I have been musing on the whole " Your theology dictates your sociology" idea. I think that it is one of the best quotes that I have ever heard, and it goes so incredibly deep if you let it.

For instance, it's so interesting how when we speak with people about who they are interested in dating we will ask " so, are they a christian?" Really, when I think about it, that is such a shallow question. So many people call themselves christians, but their theology is certainly not all the same. Many people will say they are a Christian, and yet have no real interest in following God. Even for those of us who really DO want to follow God with everything that we have... we sometimes see things differently.

Those differences, translated to a marriage situation, would make an absolutely HUGE difference! Still, somehow the only question that we see fit to ask is " is he a Christian?" That is so ridiculous.

Remembering back to my teenage years, I dated a few fellows. One young man that I dated was a "christian," however looking back I seriously question whether he had a real relationship with God at all. That man was SO damaging to me. He hurt me worse than anyone else in my dating life ever did, because he was able to make me believe that if he wasn't pleased with me, God wasn't either. Nothing in the world could have hurt me more than that. Nothing in the world is more important to me than pleasing God, and one day hearing " well done, my good and faithful servant." The ways that this young man manipulated me were so cruel, and so damaging because I could have answered " yes" to the " is he a Christian?" question.

There were other young men that I dated, among them were even people who weren't believers at all. While these people hurt me as well, it was NOTHING compared to the pain that the "Christian" young man who wasn't really following God caused. No one who doesn't claim to be a Christian can try to make their approval and God's approval one and the same. They could hurt me, but not at the same capacity as someone who claimed to be saying what God was saying about me.

Your theology dictates your sociology. WHAT you believe about God, and how well you know him, are really the important things. Those are the important questions to ask.

Travis and I agree on childraising. We have the same stance on drinking, smoking, swearing, and gambling. We agree on our perception of God. We agree on the contract of marriage, and what exactly that means. We might not always get along, but our theology is the same. Both of us want, more than anything in the world, to have the deepest, most real, relationship with God that we possibly can have... and we will do anything to attain that.

We may not always have the same interests... but after a while you realize how much that really doesn't matter. When you see Jesus in your spouse, falling in love with them again becomes easier and easier daily. When you hear your spouse praying a heartfelt prayer, forgiveness becomes second nature. Out of your theology flows your sociology...

Out of your theology flows life...

Oh my, it is truly terrible the way that time will fly, and get away on you. It certainly does that to me.

There are so many things that I want to hang on to, but time flies and they slip from my grasping fingers.

I want to hang on to my daughter, keep her young, safe; shelter her tender heart from the indisputable hurts that will soon maraud her heart, despite my best efforts.

I want to hang on to the good days, the days where flowers, sunshine, joy, and love fill my heart to overflowing... but the rainy days come, along with their sadness, pain, and confusion.

That is when I must turn my thoughts to Jesus.

He is always the same, and I don't even need to desperately hang on to him...

He hangs on to me.

Then I get to look forward to eternity... and it's so good. It's so something to look forward to.

That excites me. It is so interesting living my life right now! I love it! Emma grows every day, and I am learning to make the sacrifice that every mother has to make... teaching her to become more and more independant of me. She is learning to push toys around and walk behind them. I am so proud of her! But she falls, and hits her head, and I think I cry as much as she does. Already every new stage brings about more indepenence for her. Every stage reminds me that it will get harder as time goes on. Right now it's bonks on her beautiful little head. Later, it will be scrapes and bruises as she falls off of a horse for the first time; then, skinned knees and elbows as the training wheels come off of her bike. Eventually ( heaven forbid) it will be hurt emotions, broken hearts, and delicate dreams coming to actuality. Her first date. Her wedding day. The day she makes me a grandmum. Every stage she is growing closer to me, and yet farther away. The only way I know that she will be okay as she becomes less dependant on me, is knowing that at the same time she will become more dependant on God...

That is my purpose, I suppose. I need to teach my children to become more and more dependant on God as time goes on, and stages come and go.

And one thing I know for sure...

He will never let them down.

Well, I haven't written in this for a long time... Perhaps because I thought it a lonely place to write. Now that I know it isn't so lonely after all, I suppose I will be more motivated to write again.

Thinking of writing made me think and wonder what really is going on in the depths of myself? Sometimes I think mommies and even wives just don't have time to think about that. I suppose I have been contemplating motherhood. It is beautiful, even when it means getting up at 1:00 in the morning, getting huge, throwing up all day, and wiping bums and runny noses. Still, in my mind there is something beautiful about motherhood. However I do feel that the beauty of it sometimes is slightly obscured by the curse of it. Not to point a finger at eve, for I am sure I have sinned worse if there are worse sins, but that pivotal moment where we were all cursed with pain in child bearing, has more weight in my life than I ever expected.
I always wondered (before having a child) how the curse worked when we have the blessed needle in the spine, narcotics, and so many other forms of pain relief in childbirth. But then, I learned by experience. Child bearing includes far more than just the birth. It includes having the flu for three whole months, feeling utterly dreadful but still needing the perform as wife and mother. It includes feeling huge and unattractive in later months, wondering if you will ever look pretty again. It includes the intense fear and questioning, "will my baby be healthy? Am I doing everything the way I am supposed to?" it includes the fact that no amount of help for the pain fully alleviates the sheer work, and pain, and aftermath of childbirth. It includes the way your stomach drops before you hear that precious baby cry, and then every cry afterwards is a heartache to you, every tear, every time they are sick, scared, hurt, lonely, your greatest desire is to make it all better.

But as always, God is so good. He gives women this huge undertaking. This immense commitment, not without immense reward. For there is nothing that makes me feel closer to my creator, than having life growing within me. There is nothing that can compare to holding my precious child for the first time. No joy in life could ever compete with rocking my child to sleep. That is the way God is. He wouldn't hold back his blessings even as he brings forth hardships. He is faithful. He is good.
Most of all, as the father of all things, who have his only begotten son to DIE for us... He knows exactly what each of us as mothers is going through. Perhaps it is the vague and imperfect reflection of him in us, that still makes motherhood beautiful.

movement

Moving! Its funny to me that I am writing this because I have prayed a few times that God would move us. It isn't that I am not happy where I am at all, in fact I have also prayed so many prayers of thankfulness for where I am as well. I have prayed for Gods will more than anything else. And I have always prayed for the best.

And now we are beginning the process of movement. Movement to bring a little more independant perhaps. Movement towards change. Movement in our lives and our family, because we think its best.

What's hard for me is the guilt. The more I examine it the more ridiculous it is. There is no condemnation in Christ Jesus. There is conviction but I have experienced both and the sensation of them is so entirely different. So the guilt is not from God.
I look deeper. Why do I even feel guilty? What is my enemy telling me? I hear dark voices say "this simple mo_ will tear your family apart. You are going to hurt your husband. You are pushing him into this. This isn't going to work. You should never have prayed for this."

Hmm. I shouldn't have prayed? Its funny how when I examine the enemies words instead of just accepting them, they make no sense.

Never once did I push travis into anything. I prayed for Gods will, and I told him my hearts cries. And you know, when I listen to his sweet voice, I hear him saying what he always says.

"you are so precious. I hear your heart and I will do what is best. Push away the self hating thoughts. You are a blessing to your husband. You are a beautiful gift. I will look after you. The pieces will fall into place."

Movement is good. Directed movement is far better, and that is what we are doing.