I am three months in to being a mother of two. To be honest, I feel like I have lost myself. I love being a mom. I love these precious little ones to the core. The problem, a common one, is that I have lost moments of quiet that help me know God and that help me know myself. Those moments are few and far between.
My mind seems to be on a race track that will not stop. I get snippets of life–like a twitter feed on steroids. I have not fully been present in a worship service in 6+ months or fully listened to a sermon in that time. I get the tail end of conversations or have to walk away before they are completed. I perform fragments of chores leaving a pile of dirt in the corner yet to be swept away. I get a five minute cat nap when I long for a two hour one. I get choppy night’s sleeps. When I am away from the children, I am trying to maximize time and end up feeling paralyzed as to how to get the things done I need to (even time with my husband).
The last year has been the most isolated year of my life thus far. A Challenging pregnancy with sickness and contractions while tending to a toddler as well as the challenge of Rheumatoid Arthritis in our family kept me off the social calendar. We could not keep the pace of life to be noticed. I have begun to feel invisible even to myself. In a day of social media and celebrity, we long to be noticed. It is a false sense of being seen, though. We are snippets and fragments in people’s lives and then fade as quickly as we appeared. It is not fulfilling or lasting.
In the last week, I have been reading in Psalm 46 and Genesis 16 (in snippets:)). Genesis 16 is the story of Hagar. It is actually the account of Sarai not trusting God for the promise of children and manufacturing a plan on her own–hooking Abraham up with her maidservant, Hagar. See the hole in this plan, huh? Hagar gets pregnant and Sarai hates her and drives her out. God then sends an angel to Hagar and pursues her to go back to serve Sarai. In that, he promises that she is bearing a son to be called Ishmael because the “Lord has listened to your affliction.” She called on the name of the Lord who spoke to her–“you are a God of seeing.” In all accounts, we could treat Hagar as a throw away to the big story. In Sarai and Abraham’s disobedience and unbelief, they gave way to making a way themselves. She was a pawn in their plan–mistreated and used. BUT God did not treat her in that way. He saw her. He is the God who sees–El Roi. I have been pondering this thought. I have also been pondering how God calls us to see others…the forgotten, the mistreated, the overlooked.
Yesterday as I stole a fragment of time to be still and know that He is God, He reminded me that He sees me. I do not have to promote myself, I just need to take time to draw near to Him. I do not have to prove my “worth” in the world’s economy–He has made me worthy by the blood of His son. He encouraged me to see those nearest to me–Greg, Jack and Luke. May I drink in the fragments and serve with love. Everyday I am reminded that this is a season that is fleeting. As soon as I blink, I will have expendable time on my hands to contemplate and have deep conversations and even get bored:). He will see me then, as well, when I wonder what my life amounts to.
This morning He whispered to me that all fragments are not bad as I opened the door and saw a brief spectacular moment of pink and orange and purple and blue and white painted in a masterful way as the sun was coming up. In the Psalms and Habakuk, Selah is a word used to signify pausing, stopping and listening. I stopped and listened and took in the moment. As the fragments go by, I pray to be mindful to think on what they say about God, on what He wants me to know about Him and learn about Him and myself. He also reminded me that fragments help form collages (which I love to create). Each piece adds color and depth and shape to the whole. I thank Him that He sees me in this time and that He speaks when I stop and listen in the fragments. I pray that you remember that, as well. To Him be the glory–He is amazing.