My Tears

I am sitting here in tears, grieving over the death of someone I never knew. Through a friend's facebook page, I found a group that was dedicated to praying for a woman named Sonia and her family. She was young...only 32...and apparently died rather suddenly. She left behind a husband who is a deacon in the Orthodox Church, and a young son named Andrew.

I hate to selfishly turn my thoughts back towards me, but it's hard not to. Since having Andrew, death has taken on new meaning for me. The thought of him growing up, not knowing me except through pictures, makes my heart ache in a way that I can't describe and only a mother would understand. And so I ache for Sonia. I ache for her four-month-old son, who will never again feel the warmth of her touch or the comfort of her arms. I ache for her husband, who now must raise their child alone.

And my tears keep coming.

I believe very strongly that even after someone dies you can still communicate with their spirit, that you can pray for and with them, and they can intercede in prayer for you. I can only imagine how Sonia will pray for her baby as she watches him grow from afar. I can only guess how she is praying for her husband, as she sees him grieve. I will not even attempt to describe her feelings as she joyfully is ushered into eternity with Christ and His saints while at the same time having to be torn from her son and life companion.

And so I will pray for her, that her spirit will have peace. I will pray for her husband, that he can somehow use this tragedy to further the Kingdom of God. And I will pray for her son, her sweet Andrew, that he will always know his mommy, if only in his prayers and in his dreams.

And I will live today appreciating it a little more, thanking God for the blessings of life and love, while working on my own salvation with fear and trembling.

Dear Sonia, may your memory be eternal!

http://soniabelcher.wordpress.com/

My Sleeplessness

"People who say they sleep like a baby usually don't have one." ~Leo J. Burke

I have come to the somber conclusion that I will never again have a full night's sleep. Never again will I blissfully lie in bed oblivious of the world around me, unconcerned about the time, while the only thought on my mind is how warm and cozy and wonderful I feel. Never again.

Forgive me if I sound grumpy. I'm just a little tired.

Today was one of those mornings that coffee can't even help. I got to bed late last night and then this morning Andrew decided it would be fun to shake things up a bit and wake up two hours earlier than normal. It's hard to be mad at his happy little face, all bright-eyed and ready to start the day, so I decided to be mad at everything else. Stupid neighbors with their loud music. Stupid sunshine that came up too soon. Stupid coffee maker that doesn't automatically clean itself and refill itself with fresh coffee beans. Stupid house, that doesn't automatically clean itself when I go to bed. Stupid no sleep.

I've always been one of those people that needs a good 9 hours of solid sleep to function. Needless to say, the first few weeks of parenthood was quite a shock to my system. I remember I cried a lot. I think it was less "baby blues" and more complete and utter exhaustion. Now that that initial shock has worn off, I have begun to prepare myself for the future. The way I see it, for the next 10 years I plan on having babies and small children, so forget about sleeping for the next decade. Once they're off to school, my plan is to go back to school as well, so I won't be sleeping then. Once my kids are older and are able to drive and go on dates, I know I will be the type that stays up on the couch until everyone is home safely. Still no sleeping. Once all of my children are grown and out of the house, I'll be so old that incontinence will set in, and so for the rest of my life I will be getting up three times a night to empty my bladder.

I will never sleep again.

Now, I could sit here and think of a wonderful life lesson that would tie my lack of sleep to some greater good that could propel me towards some sort of spiritual greatness. I could philosophize and theorize and write all sorts of wise things. Quite honestly I'd rather just take a nap.

But alas, I can no neither. Andrew is waking up from his nap, and I can hear him talking to his imaginary friends. I know when I go in there, all grumpy and sleepy, he will meet me with giggles and smiles. And I'll smile back, even though I'm still grumpy and sleepy, and our day will continue.

At least I have incontinence to look forward to.

"Life is something that happens when you can't get to sleep." - Fran Lebowitz


It's hard to stay TOO grumpy when I wake up to this....

My Angel

I never really understood the verse in the Bible that says that women will be saved through childbearing (1Tim 2:15) until I had a child. Although I'm quite positive that there have been plenty of women who received God's grace and mercy without bearing a child, I am beginning to see how Andrew is going to play an intricate role in my own salvation. Not only does he cause me to repent more (like when I lose my temper), he also makes me want to pray more (especially with him) and be more thankful (especially for him).

I blinked and all of a sudden I am the mother of a toddler. The baby that once innocently played with the angels in church and sat quietly wherever I put him is now an ornery little boy with a stubborn streak he inherited from his dad and a rebellious streak he got from me. Although he can be trying at times, there are still those moments when I look into his eyes and I have to catch my breath. It's like God is speaking to me through those big blue eyes, giving me just a little extra grace and love and showing me how to give it back.

I really believe that God uses Andrew as my little personal angel to send me messages when I need them. For example, the other day I was pretty sad. I had just gotten off the phone with my sister who has just moved to Pennsylvania which is a good 10-hour drive away. I sat on the floor and just started crying. Andrew heard me crying and walked up to me with this inquisitive look on his face. He started shaking me gently and jabbering away as if to say, "There, there, mommy. It will be alright." Realizing he was going to have to do better than that to make me happy, he got real quiet and started touching my face. He then pointed to my tears and triumphantly exclaimed, "Ball! Ball! Ball!" (his favorite word), which made me laugh out loud. He then started laughing and soon we were playing and everything was right in the world. My little angel had once again come to my rescue, reminding me to appreciate what is right in front of me, and helping me smile again.

I sort of wish that verse in 1Timothy ended after it says that women will be saved through childbearing. That would make things pretty easy. But it doesn't. It goes on to say that a woman will be saved through childbearing if she continues in "faith, love and holiness, with self-control." Although the act of childbearing was the worst possible pain I've ever experienced, there's part of me that wishes I could just keep doing that instead of working towards such spiritual greatness. At least they've got epidurals for labor. It looks like I'm going to have to do the rest the hard way.

My Mid-Mid Life Crisis

For the past few months I have been in the middle of a mid-mid-life crisis. For a while there, life was happening so fast for me. After I practically sprinted through the graduation line to get my diploma, and with the full intention of never looking back, I raced to Chicago to start my new and exciting life. I quickly got an apartment in the hippest neighborhood (looking back I can see the drool on the lips of the guy who showed me my new home, as he smelled my urgency and complete ignorance of the city) and soon had my first full-time job. Eight months later I began dating my future husband. Seven months after that we got married. Four months later we got pregnant. Nine months later I decided to quit my job and be a full-time mother. And then...well, then things just sort of slowed down. Way down. At first it was wonderful. New husband, new home, new baby...but then nothing else happened. Now don't get me wrong, my husband and my son are still wonderful. I am married to a great man who is also my best friend. I love my son more than I ever thought I could love anything. But the monotony of the day-to-day responsibilities began to wear on me. I began wishing for change again, secretly yearning for that adrenaline rush of the unknown and unexpected. What made it worse was the fact that everyone around me seemed to be moving on to bigger and better things: getting better jobs, moving out of the city, and having other life-altering experiences. And here I was changing yet another diaper, doing another load of laundry, going days without taking a shower, and generally getting depressed.

And then I read a great article by my friend Jenny Schroedel called, "The Gift of Presence." In it, Jenny talks about how too often we don't stop and enjoy the moment, and she specifically talks about how as mothers we often get so caught up in schedules and lists and the future that we forget to just soak in the present and give our children our presence. The article resonated with how I had been feeling. I was so caught up in wishing for something more that I had forgotten to enjoy what I have.

...and thus, my blog was born. I don't really know what the main agenda of this blog is going to be, other than a way to help me to focus my thoughts as I begin to rediscover the beauty of what God has blessed me with so far on life's journey. A journey towards what, you ask? I don't really know. Towards finding God's will for my life. Towards finding contentment and peace. Towards more laughing and less cynicism. I know I'm not there yet. I just want to be almost there.