The sun peeks slowly over the horizon and he reaches out to the air to find me … my warmth for this chilly morning. It used to be to savor the sweet mommy-milk to fill his tummy and break his fast of the night. But he is growing and no longer requires mommy-milk to fill him. This is my heritage.
My arms encapsulate his little body and I pull him to me, I am chilly as well. I spent some of the night on the couch and returned to bed for a few as Al rose with the sun to go off to work. I slowly drift back off to sleep with him in my arms. This is my heritage.
Earlier that morning, I feel the flitters of new life inside me. I feel the burn of my throat with dinner. I feel the exhaustion that is rising up as I try to make my way from the computer chair, where I was waiting with my firstborn and watching, through the miracle of technology, her labor in the new life of her firstborn for the past 14 hours, to the sofa to get some sleep. This is my heritage.
Much waiting has gone on of late. Waiting to miscarry not too long ago. Waiting to see if the little one growing inside me now had a heartbeat. Waiting for news of my elderly grandmother while she spent the time in the hospital with a new diagnosis of congestive heart failure. Waiting for my own mother, I am her heritage, as she waited to pass a kidney stone and then recovered from food poisoning.
Now we wait for new life to be brought forth into the world … new life for raising up for the Lord … new life for joyously announcing each first … first smiles, first step, first words, first story … not only a grandchild for me, but also another child. This is my heritage.
As I rise up out of the bed. I tend to the needs of the smallest one at home. I change and clothe him while blurry eyed from the night. Little and big ones meet me in the living room with smiles and greetings. She hugs me and says, “Mommy, BB did not have that baby yet … did you have yours?” I tell her, “No. Ours will be born when it is really cold.” She rubs my belly and says, “Oh, okay”. This is my heritage.
Time marches on and I am trying to focus on the business that is my life as a mother of all seasons. Tears well up in my heart and eyes when I think of the distance between my first baby and me. I want so to be there for her and with her, to support her and let her lean on me. I cry. Hidden at first, then, being comforted by the children I feel better. I know I am where I am supposed to be. I am there. This is my heritage.
Psalm 127:3 “Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is His reward.”
Habakkuk 2:3 “For the vision is yet for an appointed time, but at the end it shall speak, and not lie: though it tarry, wait for it; because it will surely come, it will not tarry. ”
How Do You Do It?
Ever since my early days of being a mother to three small children in a row, I have gotten asked that question. I am used to it now. As a matter of fact, I have come to expect it when meeting new people. It used to embarrass me but now, not so much because it gives me a great opening to share HOW I do it! I will let you in on the way I do it too.
I do it only through the grace of a loving Father in heaven Who sent His only Son to die for my transgressions … in Christ alone.
I do it only through the help of a loving and kind Father Who hears my prayers and answers them according to His will … not my will, but His … by faith alone.
I do it only through the willing spirit on my part towards my loving Father when times of bodily weakness overtake me and trials shake my core … through grace alone.
I do it only through Him and for Him.
Not for self or selfish vain-glories.
Not for the children or my husband.
Not for the wealth of worldly goods.
Not for the praise of man.
I do it only through Him and for Him. He alone is my Rock and my Salvation, my free gift given without strings of works that I should boast of myself, my Shield and Portion-Giver. For I am without excuse as all of nature groans and travails with His glory. The very nature that I walk through and awe in bears the weight of His Almighty.
The earth and the fullness thereof is His footstool.
The heavens declare the glory of God.
The firmament shows His handiwork.
I am without excuse.
For me to live is Christ.
To die is gain.
After the richness of life there is the richness of eternal salvation. After the fullness of life lived for the glory of the Lord, there is life lived for the Glory and Honor.
I must live daily in His will and never look back to the filthy rags that were once enveloping my body, mind, spirit and soul. I must decrease so He will increase within me. I must study to show myself approved unto God, His workman, not ashamed. I must delight in the Word of God, study it and meditate on it day and night.
In Christ and through His eternal gift of salvation, that is how I do it.