Beginnings

A few days ago, I opened up this blog for the first time in months, maybe years. Immediately I was struck by the date of my most recent draft, four years ago to the very day! Titled "Struggling," the unfinished post described the state of my heart and mind during that spring of 2016, how I felt a bit lost in the midst of birthing and caring for four little people. Unpolished and raw, the words brought me to tears, mostly because of how strikingly familiar the heart-state was. The past four years have held many blessings, not least of which was welcoming our darling Auggie, but alongside the joy and gratitude were woven threads of anxiety and despair as I stumbled through a bleak postpartum season, the gutting and renovating of our home, and the spread-thinness of raising and educating so many ages and stages.

While some things are improved (thank you, Lord for better sleep!), in many ways I find myself in much the same place I did four years ago; I've lost my zing, my passion, the pep in my step. Mornings, which used to be sweet moments of purpose and presence have become dutiful but desolate. At the end of each day, I crash into bed as early as possible, exhausted but unfulfilled. Most of my runs, usually energizing, end with frustration, mentally unable to push past the wall. Closets and drawers and hidden places ebb towards chaos; a fitting metaphor for my heart.

It is not lost on me that the Lord led me to return here, to this blog, on the exact calendar date, and I've reflected quite a bit on why. What is it about this space that draws me in challenging seasons? I have a few ideas. The process of documenting our days teaches me to value and look for the beauty in each ordinary day. The mundane is kingdom work, but when I lose sight of that it becomes dreary. Writing and processing here helps me to stay focused and gain insight that otherwise would pass me by in a blur. As Flannery O'Conner put it, "I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say."

So, today is a beginning again. My writing feels rusty and sluggish, but I can already feel the hope springing up anew. May the Lord bless this messy journal of this chapter of motherhood.