Today was a Wednesday morning, normal in so many ways.
I made the bed, drank some coffee, and sat down to read about the challenges of women “having it all” and “leaning in,” challenges of today that indicate a joyful abundance women have not always known.
It was peaceful here in these four walls, despite the storms that raged outside.
In the immediate wake of the presidential election, fear, instability, and grief have wrapped their white-knuckled fingers around our nation. Hate, animosity, and division are flexing their dangerous muscles. I watch us tear each other apart, on social media, in our work, in our very own families. My heart breaks as the America we ask the King to bless does its very best to fall apart.
And through it all, a tiny little foot kicks a steady thump, thump, thump against my ribs.
30 weeks ago, I lay on an exam table and clenched Kelvin’s hand, desperately praying that there was a life inside of me. And when that screen came alive and that precious “whomp, whomp, whomp” filled the room, there were no words for the things that I felt.
Hope. Heart-breaking love. Fear. Joy. For that brief moment in time, life was good, and perfect, and right.
But we have to leave those rooms. Those perfect moments DO end.
We are sent back out into the world, to grow and love and nurture something in a world that seems destined to break us before we’ve had a chance to thrive. Where we (and others) ask if we actually want to bring a life into this world. If we realize the challenge that entails.
And the only answer to that question is this: “My anchor holds.”
“When darkness seems to hide His face
I rest on His unchanging grace
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil
Christ alone; cornerstone
Weak made strong; in the Saviour’s love
Through the storm, He is Lord
Lord of all.”
Today, there is a tiny, precious, unblemished life inside of me. A little boy or a little girl, soon to be thrust into a world of chaos, uncertainty, and fear. Where black and white still exist. Where mine and yours is not simply a childish game. Where glass slippers and glass ceilings collide. Where right and wrong are so very gray that none of us knows what color to paint in anymore.
And despite it all, I, and you, need these little ones to know that THE ANCHOR HOLDS.
We need them to know that there is grace and love and kindness, so much bigger than the division. That there is a King who loves without conditions, dispenses grace without merit, who shines light in the darkest places. That the challenges of today have not surprised Him nor changed who He is.
That there is no us or them, but we are all only His.
And we are called to live and love in this way too.
So yes, we embrace the challenge of nurturing this little life, even in the midst of the fear. We will teach and guide and direct them. We will show them the King in every storm and watch them do the same for others.
The anchor will hold.
– – – – – –
Yes, it HAS been nearly a year since I last put my heart onto this page. So where have I been? Growing a baby, getting my MSN, and striving desperately to still be a good wife, daughter, sister, and friend. I hope to be back a little more frequently, as sharing my words has become one of the best salves for my (at times) weary soul. Praying that the King has continued to bless your life as He has mine. – Lo