My topic: Jumping in.
Tuesday and Wednesday I spoke at 2 local MOPS groups on the topic of Weak and Loved.
I've done it many times before, but public speaking still causes me quite a bit of anxiety. I got up before the kids on both days (I almost never do this!) just so I could have time to think and pray before the kids were up. My hope was that I would be less stressed, distracted, and snappy when they were up and we went through the getting-ready list. I won't say this is the secret to perfection, but it did help.
When I get ready to speak, I think back to my days as a swimmer in high school. The 200 IM was the most exhausting, rewarding, terrifying event I swam. As I get ready to speak, I feel the same nervous knot in the pit of my stomach. Approaching the microphone is like approaching the starting block. It happens in slow motion and is a bit surreal.
and there is no other choice, so you GO.
And it feels good to be done. The high fives (or, in the case of MOPS, thank yous, and perhaps hugs, and stories shared) after the event are a nice bonus, but the real joy is in being done.
Before my talks each time I prayed God uphold me, let me be a blessing to those who listen, and help them embrace the freedom of being weak and loved.
I don't get tired of saying it, really.
I am a child of God: weak and loved.
I'm sinful, He is my righteousness.
I'm at the end of my strength, but He lives for me.
I'm a beggar, but He is the Giver.
I am weak, He loves.
I love to write it, and this week I got to say it, too. And I don't think I'll ever get tired of it.
It was a wonderful experience to go out of my home and say this to a bunch of strangers. But now, I am home again, and this weak and loved child/mother must focus more on the mothering part of things.
And I want to jump in to that, too. I want to give it the flailing, focused effort that I gave at MOPS this morning, even though it's not public, and even though it's not going to help sell any books.
But here at home, there is more relief than I expected. The pace is slower. It's not 45 minutes of all out effort. Instead, here, wrestling matches are followed by naps, and horrific diaper changes are followed by blessed moments of uninterrupted happy-play. And after mealtime-- the exhausting, patience-testing, full body effort of serving a family of eight a meal-- there is recovery time in the storybooks, or the bath, or the family movie.
The pace is slower.
God is good.
Here, God meets me and fills my hands with good things.
Here, He supplies mommy with patience of forgiveness or both.
Here, I am tended-to, even as I tend.
Speaking of which, that was longer than ten minutes, and nap time is over.
God uphold me, and help me love these babies better, even when they are awake.