I haven’t hardly looked at him . . not comprehensively anyway. I’ve cuddled him, loved him, fed him, changed him . . but to register features, details, differences . . . it’s like the weeks of exhaustion after Dan’s death. Apparently “giving up that baby” (or birth) was as emotionally packed and as physically wearing as giving up Dan. And this is only the beginning. The prospect of “giving up” my children to the many different growing stages such as school, driving, first overnighter at friends, college, and a spouse, didn’t seem near as daunting when I had the prospect of more time with Dan. Change was expected with Dan around. Adjustments weren’t as emotionally charged. He never let me get comfortable in one place, on one thought, too long . . always moving on to the next challenge.
How do I raise a child when half of me is missing? How do I raise seven!? Some days the thought of the future is so overwhelming. I remind myself regularly:
God gives us grace for today, not tomorrow.
He cares for the sparrow, He’s not going to ignore your little one’s and their eventual leaving of the nest.
One day at a time . . .
His promises are true and do endure . . . it’s not just a one-time deal. He will be with us forever, not just now.
And today I remind myself that I had a lousy night last night and my body is tired, weak, and sore. Everything looks worse when the physical body is suffering. It’s difficult to be spiritually upbeat when you are physically beaten down. Physical needs do have a bearing on our spiritual and emotional needs. They are all intertwinded like the strands of a rope, and when one strand is frayed the whole rope is weaker. So, anyways . . . off to bed so we don’t repeat this tomorrow.