As I held her in the early hours of the morning, I thought to myself, “This is holy work.”
I laid her down. She stirred and fussed. So I picked her back up and held her in my arms again. This time I thought, “This is holy work… and how many times does God do this for me–picks me up and holds me…”
When I resist resting, He picks me up and holds me. When I struggle to find peace, He picks me up and comforts me. When I have trouble being still, He picks me up and rocks me gently in His arms.
I laid her down, climbed back into bed and just as my eyes close and my mind begins to drift, she stirs and cries. I get up, pick her up once more, and the following lyrics come into my head–
I love, I love, I love, I love the way you hold me… I’m so grateful and thankful for all you’ve done…*
In this season of gratitude, I’m so grateful and thankful that I am here, holding her in my arms in the middle of the night instead of up, unable to sleep in the middle of the night because of the hole in my heart and absence and longing unfulfilled.
She’s here. A year later. In my arms. And I am so. Beyond. Grateful.
She burps. Ah, relief. I sway and soothe her and lay her down once more. I put pen to paper and jot down these thoughts–grateful to the One who inspires them.
This role of motherhood–it’s holy work, indeed. I see God’s love in it–how He loves us, cares for us, picks us up and holds us. Time and time again.
She stirs. I brace myself… Unlike me, He does not grow weary. And I am so grateful for that.
*Hold Me by Jamie Grace
Photo: Apple Rose Photography