Delicate Reassurance

I rocked a baby to sleep on Sunday evening.  I held her little body in my arms and quietly hummed a mishmash of lullabies as she balanced delicately between asleep and awake. When I was sure of her slumber, I called in my husband and we prayed for her. We spoke quiet intercessions over the little girl we have grown to love. We asked our Father to give her peaceful sleep and happy dreams. We asked for little things that on the large scale don’t mean much. We prayed for her parent’s guidance and then we ended as we always have with a request that she would grow healthy and strong, to serve and love Him.

She didn’t move a muscle the entire time. Normally she fights the sleep and fusses when I transition from the rocking chair to the crib but not this time. The only noise she made was a gentle sigh when I laid her down, a small surrender from her tired little body. It was beautiful, and I left the room feeling refreshed and thankful. I was thankful that she went down easy because to be honest, I was tired too. Thankful that we had the rest of the evening to relax and that her parents also could relax on their night out, knowing that she was fast asleep.

I didn’t realize until later that for the first time in five months of watching her and putting her to sleep once or twice a month, I left the room not feeling wanting. Prior to this evening I had always fought a hint of jealousy and dissatisfaction. As hard as I tried and wrestled, I always felt frustrated and sad that I didn’t have my own child to rock and hum to, to pray over and protect, to shepherd and love. That night however, I left the room with peace and joy and thankfulness and I realized that the gentle sigh, the small surrender that she gave as I laid her down was not the only one that took place. I had made a small or maybe not so small surrender of my own.

As I mulled it over I remembered something that the little girl’s mom told me recently. That God would give me the children that I’m supposed to love, a truth that she had clung to when she was in the exact same position as myself. At the time I had brushed it off, thinking to myself that it was easier said than done. However, as I sat there in my small surrender I thought and believed that if this was it that I would be okay with that. If this is the way I’m supposed to love Your children then so be it. 

Letter to my Future Self 1/11/11

Dear Katie,

At the time this letter was written you were at work drinking your second cup of tea attempting to get motivated. Shame on you. A lot of things are going on right now. You and Nathan are helping plant a church. You’re gathering with a bunch of rag-tag misfits who have no idea what this looks like. You have a job you love and a community of brothers and sisters spread far and wide who support and love you.

However, I’ve noticed lately that you are gripping pretty tight. Your desire to control every circumstance of your life is inhibiting you from experiencing some of our Savior’s greatest gifts. I know you don’t take kindly to unsolicited advice but hear me when I say, “knock it off” you’re really cramping our style. You have so much to be thankful for. You and Nathan have jobs which allow you the financial freedom to have a warm home and running cars and plenty of delicious food on the table. Who cares if you can’t go on the trip you wanted to because something had to be repaired? Comparatively speaking you have nothing to complain about.

I don’t know where you’ll be when you read this again. Maybe it will be tomorrow or maybe it will be 5 years from now. When you do please, please remember these things. Don’t forget what surrender looks like. Don’t forget what it looked like on that clear spring day in your dorm room. Don’t forget what it looked like on the foggy drive home from camp, or August 1, 2008. Please don’t forget what it looked like this morning when you remembered what Christ can do with a broken spirit and a contrite heart. Remember His faithfulness in commissioning a group of people without a clue to do immeasurably more than anything you could have imagined. Remember the people He has used to crush you and remember the ones He sent to help restore. There may be time in which you are called to one or both of those positions, be diligent in either role. Fight the urge to view any insecurity you might be feeling as bigger than what you know to be true.  Fight the urge to control everything, and surrender. You are not your own. Remember that.


Love, 
Katie