For Lent, I decided to wake up an hour before Jack so that I could make time to pray, write, and think clearly about my day.
I did this... one time. And that Once was because I had to pack to catch a flight. No moment of silence making lists of gratitude; no signs of restfully sitting and sipping hot lemon water. The Pre-Mom Me would denote myself to failure and speak some words of self-hate in my mind, but I'm growing up and learning I'm better than that. I have always been drawn to the imagery of seasons. Growing up in Chicago, I remember the first signs of buds returning to their branches this time of year, bringing with them the hope of newness, sunlight, longer days, and the bliss of summer. Nobody told the buds to come back; nobody taught the flowers to bloom.
Our bodies, our lives were created this way. We were made to rise and fall with life; walk in the trenches and hike up the mountaintop, wake up early and sleep in. Yes - I am a Goals person. Yes, I am an Enneagram 3 Achiever, but I recognize that this is a season where I find the early morning hour too early; a season in which sleep trumps ALL.
I've always been a morning person - lulled by the sweet light of the sunrise, smell of the coffee, goals and prospect of the day. These moments are where I have drawn motivation, inspiration, perseverance. But I can't rely on the morning for these moments anymore; I have to find them throughout my day. It's a discipline; it's a practice. It's noticing and being present. It's not seeking the practice outside of Jack, it's finding it within time with him.
I read something that struck me today: "It took me a long time to realize that the activities of motherhood were the practice, rather than practice being something that I could fit in between those activities."
It is here and it is now with Jack. Thank God for seasons. And Jack's cuteness.
I did this... one time. And that Once was because I had to pack to catch a flight. No moment of silence making lists of gratitude; no signs of restfully sitting and sipping hot lemon water. The Pre-Mom Me would denote myself to failure and speak some words of self-hate in my mind, but I'm growing up and learning I'm better than that. I have always been drawn to the imagery of seasons. Growing up in Chicago, I remember the first signs of buds returning to their branches this time of year, bringing with them the hope of newness, sunlight, longer days, and the bliss of summer. Nobody told the buds to come back; nobody taught the flowers to bloom.
Our bodies, our lives were created this way. We were made to rise and fall with life; walk in the trenches and hike up the mountaintop, wake up early and sleep in. Yes - I am a Goals person. Yes, I am an Enneagram 3 Achiever, but I recognize that this is a season where I find the early morning hour too early; a season in which sleep trumps ALL.
I've always been a morning person - lulled by the sweet light of the sunrise, smell of the coffee, goals and prospect of the day. These moments are where I have drawn motivation, inspiration, perseverance. But I can't rely on the morning for these moments anymore; I have to find them throughout my day. It's a discipline; it's a practice. It's noticing and being present. It's not seeking the practice outside of Jack, it's finding it within time with him.
I read something that struck me today: "It took me a long time to realize that the activities of motherhood were the practice, rather than practice being something that I could fit in between those activities."
It is here and it is now with Jack. Thank God for seasons. And Jack's cuteness.
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