Winter growth

I'm tired of being pregnant. I'm tired of keeping my shoes on all day for fear of not getting them on when I need to because my feet are swelled. I miss being able to sleep on my back. I miss my regular clothes. I miss my husband. I miss being able to walk at my usual pace without my back hurting. I miss washing the dishes without bumping my belly against the counter. I'm tired of deliberating about picking something I drop off the floor. I'm ready to be done carrying Louie around everywhere and always.

I'm tired too of my kids being sick. Madeleine and Dale have had this wet-but-unproductive cough for some time; his was bad enough to be croup and she needed amoxycillin for strep as well. Now, finally, Rachel is starting up with it. So we can't go visit friends or to activities for fear of cross contamination. It's tricky for me to get them out for a walk around the block when we get a quarter of the way around and it sounds like a day trip for a tuberculosis ward, but I've done it for my own sanity's sake.

But that's how He does things, isn't it? Learning and growth take place at the edge of frustration. Just when we think we have reached our very limit, when we crumple to our knees with the cry of "Eloi, Eloi, lema sabbacthani?" we hear His voice. When we have seen the absolute darkness around us, He comes with a light to guide us through. We don't notice His light in the day, but only when our night comes.

So be it. God, grant me strength to joyfully, patiently, and prayerfully finish out this winter. To welcome the little boy in my womb to my arms. To appreciate the stark beauty of the snow, the sparkle of the icicles, the gratitude of a warm house.
Amen.