Dear Friend: A month in & lots of grace.
The joy of welcoming our baby girl and being held here.
Dear friend,
What a joy to write to you, in my slippers and lounge attire, which is where I could easily picture you joining me. I’m sipping Jamaica Me Crazy coffee in my mug, and it is a delight on this chilly November morning. I’m remembering this line from Douglas McKelvey’s Liturgy for the Ritual of Morning Coffee, from Every Moment Holy Vol. 1, as I savor this moment:
Let me enter this new day, aware of my need and awake to your grace.
It’s been a month since our girl arrived, and it has been such a wonderful, exhausting, full, disorienting, hard, happy few weeks. I’m still finding myself in regular awe and gratitude of the gift of this precious girl, Clover, joining our family.
One of the phrases that the Lord gave me to hold onto in my pregnancy was "without fear of the future" that comes from Proverbs 31:25. This didn't feel shaming for any fear I felt about so much unknown and transition, but an invitation to trust how deeply I am loved.
It was such a gift to name the lie that I can only feel safe when I know what is coming, as I journaled in my spiritual direction group at 39 weeks pregnant.
What a gift to be reminded yet again that I am a child of God, lavishly loved. This isn't because of anything I do, but simply because I belong to the Lord. I can trust his love will be surrounding me, even in the future I can't see. I can trust his lavish love will be throughout the story is he telling for my life.
When I asked the Lord for a picture of the truth of his lavish love, he gave me the gift of imagining the arrival of our baby girl, and how even then we were anticipating her with love and expectancy. She hasn't done anything and yet we already loved her so.
I couldn't have known but the very next morning I would get to hold Clover in my arms. I felt surrounded by love as I was in labor, and it brings me to tears to declare that, especially for what this means for some tender places in my story.
I didn't have to know what was coming to be safe and lavishly loved.
And now that I'm holding our precious girl, the Lord's picture of love for me feels tenfold. I delight in holding her, kissing her head, her smell, offering her all she needs, marveling at every part of her. It is enough that she is here, that she is my child and she has my lavish love.
What a gift to be holding both literally and figuratively so much evidence of lavish love.
Here are just a few sweet joys of these days—
Her tiny hiccups
Seeing my three (what?!) kids together
Baby headbands
Her hand grasping one of my fingers
My husband making me tea and snacks
Being able to hug people normally again
Her soft baby head & the way it smells (hello oxytocin!)
Family walks, delighting in the fall foliage, while pushing a stroller
Clover sleeping on my chest
Salted caramel pecans
Introducing this precious girl to people we love
So much tangible evidence of love (meals! gifts! gift cards! packages! childcare! I’m so grateful for all the ways people have loved us.)
I’ve also been so grateful to have space to share a little bit about what I’m holding in these days with a baby:
A breath prayer for when you need to be held
Found poetry for a season with more needs
What I’m whispering over Clover
And I’ll end with these words from KJ Ramsey that I already shared here, but continue to be a gift to my heart. I hope they are for yours as well.
"The shape of survival is softer than I wish. It is harder to see, and more humbling to let be seen.
You are you in every phase.
You are held steady, tilting on the axis of God's love, no matter what shape your life is taking today."
Dear friend, thanks for letting me share some of the gifts of this transition & Clover’s arrival with you. If you’d like, feel free to just hit "reply" to this email. I read and savor every email that comes my way, even if I don’t always have the space to respond. Whether you want to share some of the sweet joys of your season or if my words brought up anything for your heart, I’d be so glad to know.
Warmly,
Alison