I’ve been up since 4am and can’t sleep, so I’m just sitting here with my bowl of cereal listening to the sound of the girls sleeping on the couch nearby and making lists of things to do before bébé comes. I have a little over 4 weeks left and “operation preparation” hit me BAD this week.
We have been living from one week to the next for the past two months and lately, from one day to the next as we deal with contractors, appraisers, underwriters, and realtors trying to get our house closing settled. Naturally, baby things got pushed waaaaay down to the bottom of the list as we made phone calls and emails and obsessed over our house repairs budget till I thought my nails would be gone. If I think about it too long, I want to cry, so I just don’t and we forge on ahead knowing in the back of my mind that God’s closing date supersedes the date I would’ve picked on my best day. But if we’re being honest, 90% of the time I don’t actually feel that way.
Our pastor preached on Psalm 121 on Sunday and he spoke of that very thing – feeling. He reminded me that it doesn’t matter if we feel our feet will slip or not, He is our keeper. It doesn’t matter if we feel preserved from attacks or not, He is our keeper. It doesn’t matter if we feel prepared or not, He is our keeper. Oh how reassuring to be reminded that the one who takes care of us does not slumber, nor doth He forget about us.
He keeps us.
Even as I write that it drives me to conviction.
I have been by myself for almost the entirety of this pregnancy. Between my husband’s traveling overseas in February, my move in March with the kids, his job transition to GA in May, and me up here in SC selling the house, I have been learning the foreign territory of single parenting. Basically, it’s hard. Really hard. We’ve had to make more decisions then I ever want to have to make in a year again. I’ve struggled with wanting to feel that it is the right thing before jumping in, wanting to be able to give people clear cut answers when they ask what is going on. And yet, most of the time it was not a matter of whether I thought I could handle it or not, but a matter of obedience, and so far beyond my own control. It was a calling to be faithful. Day in and day out. I could listen to everybody’s advice, search out my deepest motivations, research the heck out of google, and drive myself insane with coffee runs, but it was in the shower on my knees that most of the answers came. I would lock the door for a few precious minutes of quiet and sink to the floor, letting the steam refresh my face. I would tell God I was so tired, for that’s all I really knew to say. Just so unbelievably tired. And then things would get real. I would tell God I wasn’t just physically tired, but I was tired of doing the right thing. Of showing up. Of giving up. To get battered and weathered and worn.
And just like He always does, He met me. It wasn’t in one earth shattering moment, but rather the build up of conversations and books and prayers. Sleepless nights and early mornings…
He is your keeper, Mary Beth. Your help comes from the Lord…the maker of heaven and earth. You don’t have to do it alone.
And I’ll re-read this the next time I forget.