Good morning friends,
I’ve spent the last couple of weeks sifting through notebook pages spilling over with words and highlighted sticky statements. I combed through my bible with what small amount of energy I can muster these days, but nothing shouted at me.
I’m one to be inspired by notebook edges and wavy lines. It doesn’t take much to have me yapping one hundred miles an hour about a subject which throws me off on a million different tangents. Yet, these last couple of months have been trying.
I have morning sickness.
Not the kind you can eat crackers and go about your day by brushing it off. The kind that rips up the lining of your esophagus and causes busted blood vessels in your nose. The kind that makes you want to sleep all day.
What a blessing I’ve been gifted by bringing life to this world. It doesn’t come without work. These are the bits and pieces of light that I gather for myself during this time.
Sometimes, I want to dance in the streets. Sometimes I want to be silent and still. More of the latter. With each passing day, I rejoice for tiny triumphs. Little specs of light that fall on my hair when all I want to do is stare off into space, are the tiny triumphs I cherish.
Before morning sickness, I was waiting for a miracle. Now, I have it. I realize when we’re given miracles (tiny or huge), we often wait for the next one and then the next one and then the next one.
Not this time.
God has granted a miracle and is making sure that every moment of every second of this miracle, I understand it for what it truly is.
Waking up is a miracle. Drinking clean water is a miracle. Resting is a miracle. The flutter of dust in my house is a miracle. It proves life exists. That’s a miracle, friend.
Counting my blessings.