Odd Comforts

When I was single, one of the deep-down satisfying little routines I relished was moving around my little apartment at the close of the day -- turning off lights, closing blinds, and generally "shutting down" for the night.  In those moments, the quiet familiarity of these small habits soothed my soul like a lullaby. 

Now, as a wife and mother, my routines have changed and are rarely completely solitary, yet I still find moments of internal calm that bring me that same sense of satisfaction.  One hit me the other day as I waited for my mocha at the coffee shop. With Jacie in my arms and people bustling all around, the calm of waiting quietly for my drink among strangers wrapped around my soul.  Without moving, I let my eyes rove the room, soaking in the sense of satisfaction at the routineness of waiting in line, at the feeling of privacy inside my own head even while in a public place. 

Though quiet solitude is redefined for me now, I still find comfort in those momentary internal retreats when the world around me recedes and I feel the deep-rooted comfort that all is right with the world.  Inside my head, deep in my soul, I am still me and it is enough.

Fear and Hope

Already I feel the fear raising its ugly head.  What if the next pregnancy proves as elusive as it was the first time?  Am I up for the roller coaster ride of emotions, hoping every month only to be disappointed?  I try to squelch the fears with:  shouldn't I be content with the child I have?  Or it's too soon to know if I will have difficulty getting pregnant again because I'm still nursing.  Or even, it's out of my control anyway, so why worry about it --- when it happens, it happens! 

And yet...  the twinge has returned when I hear about another pregnancy, when I think of my desire to have a family -- siblings playing together, growing together. I am thankful and so blessed with my husband and my little girl that I feel guilty even about the twinge.  But, still, it bothers me that what comes easily to so many is such a fraught-with-frustration process for me.  Perhaps I'm worrying too soon -- maybe, maybe not.  So, cautiously, I will let myself hope.  And I will try to remember Aslan's words in The Horse and His Boy as God's reminder to me: 
"Child," said the Voice, "I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own."

This is my story -- my lot -- perfectly handcrafted by God to work His purpose for my life and no one else's.