Beauty of the Lord

I will declare the beauty of the Lord,

Nothing compares to the beauty of the Lord,

Jesus, your love takes my breath away.

Now I'm living every day for the beauty of the Lord.

"Beauty of the Lord" / Desperation Band / 2004

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It's late, and I'm up with the baby again, typing one-handed as he nurses.  I'm thankful that he's nursing, as many times during this time of night he won't be consoled by nursing or snuggling. Those nights, Kyler and I begin that delicate dance of "volunteering" to be the one to stay up for an hour or two before trading off. It's maddening.

And then I remember what I should do in these circumstances:

²Consider it pure joy, my brothers, 

whenever you face trials of many kinds...
James 1:2 (NIV)

But it's hard to be joyful in those moments when Callan is so difficult. When I'm so utterly exhausted I can hardly think straight, and so wracked with guilt when my working husband is the one sacrificing sleep so I can rest. When I spend hour upon hour rocking his tiny frame to sleep and gingerly placing him in the bassinet in our room, only to wake 30 minutes later and start the whole process again. 

But then, it's also in those moments that I have the most clarity about this beautiful miracle God has entrusted to me. Even through the haze of blurry-eyed exhaustion, I can see the beauty of the Lord. Even when I feel as though I'll never "get it together" as I learn how to "do" three children under 3-1/2, and even when I feel frustrated to no end and uttnerly helpless to stop Callan's incessant crying, I can choose to find joy.

My baby cries an awful lot, but his cries mean that I have a baby.

JOY.

I am exhausted from weeks of sleepless nights spent rocking a restless infant, but I have been rocking him at home. There are many, many mothers who rock their children in Pediatric Intensive Care Units, forgoing sleep to keep vigil over a gravely ill little babe.

JOY.

My body aches from hours of carrying Callan and an equal number of hours spent nursing to nourish his growing body. But those aches mean I am able to nurse him, and I am able to carry him. This should carry special meaning, since I was unable to carry Kayden for several weeks.

JOY. 

And though his constant need to be in my arms seems at times inconvenient or tiring, I know there will come a time in the not-so-distant future when I will ache for this time when he likes nothing better than to snuggle in my embrace. 

JOY.

Jesus, your love takes my breath away. So I will declare the beauty of the Lord. And in that beauty I find joy.