Thursday, September 15, 2011

Stolen Time

It is quiet. The only sound is the anxiety pounding in my head that says she'll wake up at any moment.  That beautiful little girl who consumes my life now. The precious little eyes and smile that take up every free moment I possess.  The lovely little cheeks that prevent me from thinking about myself anymore...

In my quiet, stolen moment, I pray for a little time to myself. A little time to breathe, to write, to quilt, to shower... what was it like to shower without listening for a little voice?  I choose writing. The whir of the computer is oddly calming. It feels so full of potential. The anxiety stays - will I be able to finish this one blog post?  Too many posts started and left unfinished these days.

My empty oatmeal bowl sits beside me.  I remembered to eat breakfast, this once. Boxes are everywhere on my floor. My attempts to simplify these days have created a mess that is hardly simple. Baby toys are littered between the boxes. I should be cleaning now, not writing, but I'm choosing myself this time, not my to-do list. Even as I write it, I wonder if it is selfish, stealing these little moments and doing something for me. The things that need to be done grow and grow and I find myself shrinking beneath them.  And yet, as the shrinking happens, I redefine myself, this child who is growing into womanhood.

I try not to put my insecurities on him. This poor husband who loves me when I don't deserve it.  Sometimes my heart wants to put my feelings of self-hate on him.  Choosing to create stress in his life in the hopes that he doesn't notice all the things I didn't get done today, again.  Even now, in the beauty of Christ's grace, I try to earn love. Even now, after five beautiful years of marriage, I'm trying to win his love that has always been freely given.

In this stolen moment, I'm choosing not to earn this time. I'm choosing to receive love not because I deserve it with my clean house and my clean life, but because love is offered. I'm choosing to be okay with failing. I'm choosing this silent moment for myself and fighting the feelings of worthlessness for doing so.

I hear her little voice in the monitor babbling. My heart is swollen with love for her. This little person I gladly give my sleep and energy to.  This little love that fills my life. This child who does not steal my time but receives it freely given.

Just Write

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