Not sure about you, but the last month of pregnancy was just the worst.
Well-meaning people asking, “are you still here?”
Babies sitting either up near my ribs making it nearly impossible to take a deep breath or right on my bladder (and you know what that means).
Wanting it all to be O.V.E.R.
I was heavy. And VERY uncomfortable.
(As a friend reminded me just yesterday.)
HEAVY.
The added weight from all things baby.
The sheer exhaustion of carrying the extra load around.
The emotions I could not corral inside myself.
VERY UNCOMFORTABLE.
Constantly shifting positions to get some desperately-needed sleep.
Not being able to cut my toenails.
Obsessing over the unknown and that out-of-control feeling.
But I wasn’t just those things.
I was also waiting for something big.
Something good that would change everything.
The past few weeks, I’ve been thinking lots about Mary (the mother of Jesus) like never before.
How she was heavy. And VERY uncomfortable.
Just like me.
Pregnant just like me.
Waiting for something big and good just like me.
I’m not pregnant and will never be again.
At least not physically.
But I have felt very “pregnant” the last many months.
It’s been very hard in lots of ways.
I’m asking myself, “are we still here?”
Calm is hard to find. Inside and out. Trying to take deep breaths in the middle of it, but finding it difficult.
Wanting it all to be O.V.E.R. right this minute.
I am heavy. And VERY uncomfortable.
HEAVY.
Overwhelmed with the weight of all.the.things.
Exhausted from the constant carrying of burdens too big for me.
A myriad of emotions, some of which I can’t even identify.
VERY UNCOMFORTABLE.
Shifting, sorting, wondering. Always adjusting.
Unable to find settledness of soul.
Obsessing over the unknown and that out-of-control feeling.
I bet you have too.
How could you not?
But I also know something big is coming.
Something good that will change everything.
Maybe not this minute, or this month or even this year.
Maybe I'll have to wait for longer than I want to.
Maybe it will be completely different than I expected.
BUT...
This “pregnancy” of mine will eventually come to an end.
Yours will too.
It's the promise we hold on to together.
And
Life.
Hope.
Light.
Joy.
Peace.
Love.
Will be born anew.
It's why we light candles on cold winter nights, reminding ourselves that it's really okay to "still be here."
It's why we keep breathing, inhaling and exhaling, even when it feels impossible.
It's why we cling to each other while we wait.
Happy Winter (yes, it's the very first day of it) - and all the holidays that go along with it.
I'm so grateful for you.