A New Season

Why, hello there, blog of mine . . . Let's see . . . it's been over three months since I last wrote. Definitely not because I don't have a desire to write. I have no less than five blogposts started on here that I've never finished. And there are thoughts tumbling around in my head that just need to be spit out onto paper.

So . . . I figured I may as well just start. Just start writing again and whatever I get out, I get out. It may not be pretty and some of it may be incoherent. It may be all over the place. But that is just kind of where I'm at right now in life, going in a bunch of different directions all at the same time. Trusting Jesus that He will lead in each of those directions and walking by faith in what He has set before me.

Morrow has reached the six month mark. Hard to believe we've been living with this sweet little guy for half-a-year. He sits, he army crawls (and could beat out any other baby in a race), he has two teeth, he eats solid food. He does not sleep through the night . . . but who really cares when he is so jolly all day long? Seriously . . . we could just eat him up.

My other three babes continue to grow, which is so rude. They just won't stop, no matter how many times I ask them to stay little. 

But, there is something delightful about starting another year of school at home with them. Except that it makes my laundry look like this:

Oh wait, who am I kidding. My laundry room looks like that most of the time. Oops. 

The past three months have been full. And, have brought good and bad, joy and heartache. I think many of my blogposts I haven't finished because they haven't felt 100% real. You see, this is my second time around of having gross, awful postpartum depression. No matter how badly I wanted to escape it, sneak by without having it "catch" me, I just couldn't avoid it. It crept up on me, and eventually I had to admit what I was dealing with and then face it head on.  I want to talk about it and admit it, because I hate that I felt shame that I was struggling with it. Because I know that if I struggled with shame over it, there must be other women who struggle with shame over it, not wanting to admit to it.  I guess I just wanted to be "better" than having postpartum depression. When I was really in the midst of it, I didn't want anyone to know that I wasn't "supermom/superwife/superwoman/superfriend."
But enough of that!! I say no more! No more of believing the lie that perfection is what we should be showing the world. It is in my weakness that Jesus gets the glory, so I will boast of it all the more.
(2 Corinthians 12)

It is good for me to real on here, because it frees me from any delusion that I might have about being super-anything. And the more I'm real and honest about my struggles, the more I see my need for a Savior. Which forces me to the only Savior I have, which is Jesus. You see, any delusion I have about being super-anything just keeps me self-dependent. And the Lord keeps shouting at me that He doesn't want me to be self-dependent. He wants me to be wholly dependent on Him.

Last week in my Bible study, one of the questions was what positive and/or negative feelings do you have about the word "saved?" Saved. It means that I need to be saved from something. And normally if we are being saved from something it isn't something good. Right? So I really resent the word saved sometimes. Because well, in needing to be saved, I am not self-sufficient and I have to let go of the smoke and mirrors that would allow me to believe otherwise!

Okay ... I hear little people stirring and the baby in my lap is done with just sitting here. So I am going to hit publish on this post and let it mark a new season of writing for me. It may mean half finished posts where I stop mid-thought. Posts that are to be continued . . . but I would love it if you stick with me.