What I Want for Her

My one-and-a-half-year-old just plopped down on my tummy. I didn’t experience this type of jostling with my first pregnancy. That nine months was all naps and snacks. This second round of getting rounder is much less serene.
I had a moment of panic last week with my toddler at the dentist’s office. The receptionist noted, “Well, your next appointment will be in April.” April . . . April . . . I trolled through the numbered days in my iPhone only to see a surprisingly clear month. I realized then that I’d be off on maternity leave with a one-month old. The circus juggling act of getting one carrier + diapers + another child + myself (dressed and not crying–me and the kids) all into my car and to a dentist appointment buzzed through my mind as I turned my mouth into a smile and said, “Yes, the fifteenth will be fine.”
How is it that people get these kiddos to 18 with all their limbs and a nice pair of eyeballs intact? As I think again about new motherhood, this new little one, and the world he or she will grow up in it’s hard not to wonder. What is it that I really want for my daughter if I can somehow wedge my thoughts past simple survival and car seat loading?
I want her to be healthy. . . to never know hunger in her own belly.
To see the beauty of a Nebraska gold-soaked sunset.
To enjoy a random Tuesday dinner with a spouse, talking through struggles in a way that leads to laughing.
To feel a passion for something.
To know the pain/joy of helping.
To wear an outfit that isn’t what’s popular, just because.
To feel the pain-then-joy of exercise.
To know how it feels to be on a team.
To plug into those things that are life-giving and unplug from what sucks energy away.
To watch a movie with someone sitting next to her–close on the journey.
To know motherhood . . . if that is what she wants.
. . . I’m guest posting over at my friend Michelle’s blog today.  Will you join me over there for the rest of the story?

trusting that God will come through tomorrow too

I said yes without thinking.  That was my first mistake.

When Michelle asked if I’d write a guest post for her blog, I naively hit the send button after keying three quick letters, y-e-s.  Maybe if I’d taken the time to write out a sentence–which probably would have stated that I’ve never done this before–I would have seen my enthusiasm for what it was: naive stupidity.  As soon as I lifted my finger off the enter key, it sprung up to cover my mouth as my cantaloupe eyes seemed to bust out of my head.  What have I done. . .ahhh. . .just what do you think you’ll write, anyway?  Undo.  Undo!  

So, a week later with my panic lulling more like Eyore in the background than Tigger bouncing on my eardrum, I wrote a midweek blog post.  As I cleaned up the last phrases, I sat back and thought. . . I should save this one.  What if God doesn’t show up the week I’m supposed to write for Michelle?

The poor theology in this question rolled its eyes and said, “You’re kidding, right?”  Sure, I can say in my best sing-song, Sunday school voice that “God always shows up, God is always present. , and God is faithful,” but do those words do any heavy-lifting in my actual life?  I don’t want to trivialize these deep statements, but I’m starting to wonder how much I know but don’t really KNOW.

. . . I’m doing my first-ever guest post over at my friend Michelle’s blog today.  Will you pardon my jumping up and down and join me over there for the rest of the story?