One Year

Today is my "Blog-i-versary." 

Well, technically July 29th was my first entry but it doesn't really count.  I was just trying to see what it would all look like and make sure it was pretty.

It was a year ago today that I wrote, "A Lesson from Amy..." and poured my sleep deprived thoughts out through the keypad on to the computer screen.

It was a few days before when I sat down with a dear friend in her backyard.  Her daughters took the Bug swimming while Little Man slept in his seat and we chatted under an umbrella by the pool.

She told me she had been praying for me and that I should start writing.  It was confirmation.  I had been praying, and in the quiet, was feeling a supernatural urge to do something I never thought I was very good at.  And since I never fancied myself, "a writer," I figured that perhaps this really was the Holy Spirit urging me forward to do something that certainly intimidated me.

A few nights later, with this chorus in my head, I began to spill out the brokenness, that was more than just exhaustion from a baby who didn't sleep.  I had been tired for many years before my babies came.  I just didn't understand why.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

I find it amusing that I had already titled my blog, A Beautiful Mess, and those words happen to be right there in the middle of that chorus.  Providence maybe.

So there I was, tired.  And, little did I know that it was only the beginning. 

Day by day, week by week and month by month I became a little more sleep deprived, a little more broken, and a little more moldable.  My desperation brought me to a place of dependence.  I had a choice to depend on Him or depend on me.  And frankly, depending on me would soon raise flags for CPS. 

Then one night in February the flood gates broke open...the good kind of flood gates.  I began to see a purpose, I began to sense the magnificent, unmistakeable power of the Holy Spirit and I began to pray.  I began to believe again that God hears my prayers and is faithful to answer them.

The nights became a rendezvous with my Little Man and my Comforter, my Healer, my Protector, my Strength, my Shield, my Refuge.  There I sat in the Big Blue Chair guarded by the shadow of His Wings.  I cried out...but now, not just for myself, but for those that burdened my heart and the day time brought glimpses of those cries being heard.

The year came full circle.  As Little Man's 1st Birthday approached I sensed sleep was near.  Within two weeks after his birthday we were all sleeping through the night.

I have now slept through the night for approximately 7 and 1/2  weeks.  New.  Person.  I.  am.

But can I tell you something?  I wouldn't trade those sleepless nights for anything.

God changed me.  My heart is willing.  I want to know my Jesus more than I ever have before.

Those nights saved me.  They saved me from a life of mediocrity.  They made me desperate, desperate to seek him and find him and respond to His love anywhere and anytime.

Now I look for moments, in laundry, dishes, walks to the park and everyday conversations when Holy meets ordinary and Heaven crashes in.  I am slowly learning the art of living.

Writing down has caused me to hold on to the details, the small things that make it decadent.  I'm thankful.

Thank you for reading my words this year.

The Bug's First Official Day of Preschool.  She loves her brother.