Brain Fatigue

So....my child doesn't sleep. Actually, that's not entirely true. He does sleep, just not for very long periods of time. And he doesn't sleep through the night. Ever. For the last six months of his life at least, he has woken up three times a night at the minimum,  with the average being closer to five. So, needless to say, my brain doesn't function very well. It's tired. I'm tired. We're exhausted. And this state of being is not conducive to writing. I've had some post ideas in the works for a while, but it's hard to write when your brain feels like a pile of cold oatmeal. So instead, I thought I would share a picture and a poem that blessed me recently.
I love the story of the Annunciation. I love how much God valued Mary's humanness, dignity, and free will, just as he values ours. I love that Mary trusted enough to say yes, even though the future was so very unclear. I could use a dose of that trust (especially when it comes to whether or not I will actually ever sleep again ). I love this painting of the Annunciation by J. W. Waterhouse, where Mary touches both her mind and her heart, as if to illustrate that beautiful verse which says, "Mary kept all these things and pondered them in her heart". And I love this poem by Denise Levertov, called (wonder of wonders) Annunciation. I hope you love it too :).

Annunciation

‘Hail, space for the uncontained God’
From the Agathistos Hymn,
Greece, VIc

We know the scene: the room, variously furnished,
almost always a lectern, a book; always
the tall lily.
       Arrived on solemn grandeur of great wings,
the angelic ambassador, standing or hovering,
whom she acknowledges, a guest.

But we are told of meek obedience. No one mentions
courage.
       The engendering Spirit
did not enter her without consent.
         God waited.

She was free
to accept or to refuse, choice
integral to humanness.

                  ____________________

Aren’t there annunciations
of one sort or another
in most lives?
         Some unwillingly
undertake great destinies,
enact them in sullen pride,
uncomprehending.
More often
those moments
      when roads of light and storm
      open from darkness in a man or woman,
are turned away from

in dread, in a wave of weakness, in despair
and with relief.
Ordinary lives continue.
                                 God does not smite them.
But the gates close, the pathway vanishes.

                  ____________________

She had been a child who played, ate, slept
like any other child–but unlike others,
wept only for pity, laughed
in joy not triumph.
Compassion and intelligence
fused in her, indivisible.

Called to a destiny more momentous
than any in all of Time,
she did not quail,
  only asked
a simple, ‘How can this be?’
and gravely, courteously,
took to heart the angel’s reply,
the astounding ministry she was offered:

to bear in her womb
Infinite weight and lightness; to carry
in hidden, finite inwardness,
nine months of Eternity; to contain
in slender vase of being,
the sum of power–
in narrow flesh,
the sum of light.
                     Then bring to birth,
push out into air, a Man-child
needing, like any other,
milk and love–

but who was God.

This was the moment no one speaks of,
when she could still refuse.

A breath unbreathed,
                                Spirit,
                                          suspended,
                                                            waiting.

                  ____________________

She did not cry, ‘I cannot. I am not worthy,’
Nor, ‘I have not the strength.’
She did not submit with gritted teeth,
                                                       raging, coerced.
Bravest of all humans,
                                  consent illumined her.
The room filled with its light,
the lily glowed in it,
                               and the iridescent wings.
Consent,
              courage unparalleled,
opened her utterly.

Moving Too Fast For Grace

    Over Lent, I read the book The Practice of the Presence of God by Brother Lawrence. It is such a beautiful little book. Brother Lawrence, a simple little monk who lived in the 1600s and oversaw the kitchens at his monastery, discovered for himself a way of staying in God's presence all day long, so much so that he was almost always at peace. His way was to think of Jesus all day long and maintain a constant mental dialogue with Him, no matter what was going on around him. On days when he had done well in remembering to keep in the Lord's presence, he thanked God for his mercy. And when his thoughts strayed from Jesus, he did not allow himself to be downcast, but instead asked the Lord's forgiveness and simply returned his thoughts to Jesus. Such a beautiful humble soul Brother Lawrence had. I wrote out a little quote from him that I have taped to my stove. It reads, Lord of all pots and pans and things, make me a saint by getting meals and washing up the plates! A wonderful reminder that God is present even in the mess of everyday life.
    I'm afraid my thoughts often stray from Jesus. In fact, I'm lucky if I can pay attention during the whole of my morning prayer time, much less the whole day! During the rosary, I constantly have to keep calling my mind back to the meditation, because it is constantly running about, planning out my day or thinking of things that need to be done. Brother Lawrence's ability to stay in God's presence all day is a lofty goal, one I might never reach in my lifetime, try as I might. One thing struck me while reading his little book though. It was a simple line in one of the letters included in the book, written by Brother Lawrence to a friend of his who was a nun. He writes to tell her to encourage another mutual friend who was trying very hard to follow his way. But this is what he says that struck me so much and has stayed with me all this time: "She is full of good will but she would go faster than grace! One does not become holy all at once".
    One does not become holy all at once. So often that is me, full of good will, but moving too fast. I don't know about you, but I am a goal-oriented person. I like to set my goal, check off the checklist, and reach what I'm striving for, the quicker the better. Patience is not my strength. I like to make snap decisions and love doing spur of the moment things. My husband is very different from me. He likes to take his time, and research all possible options before making a decision. I semi-jokingly told him he is teaching me to enjoy the journey, not just the destination. And that's a good thing. He slows me down, and reminds me to think before I act (or speak). And that's what I have to remember about my spiritual life as well. It's a journey, not a dash to the finish line. I would just like to do A, accomplish B, check off C, and somehow reach sainthood status right here and now. But by trying to do so, all too often I am moving faster than grace. And there's a reason why it's better to slow down, take our time, ask the Lord what he is trying to show us in the here and now. In trying to move along too fast, we miss those moments of grace that are interspersed in our daily lives, little challenges or tests that will teach us important lessons, or hidden moments of wonder that call us upward and outward, away from ourselves into the great beyond that is Our God. In my mind's eye, I see myself as a little child, walking along the road to Perfection, climbing this Sacred Stair. Sometimes I trip and stumble, and usually it's because I am running ahead, trying to go so fast that I miss the uncomfortable experience of having to live the journey. I took this image to prayer one day, and asked the Lord to help me, because I didn't feel like I had the strength to go on by myself. Daily life, with its struggles and little inconveniences, was piling up on me, and I felt swamped by it all, pulled in many directions. And surprisingly, I heard Jesus say, "Of course I will go with you! Just walk with me, and don't leave my side." And it was then I knew that Jesus wanted to hold my hand, to help me as we walked together, but I, like a small child, was running ahead, letting go of His hand, letting go of the grace he gives me for each moment. And no wonder it was hard! When I let go of his hand, when I step outside of his presence and living in the moment with Him, I miss His guiding presence that shows me the obstacles in the path, the tree root I might trip over, the gigantic, muddy hole I might fall into. He's there to help, to carry me over the dangers in my path, to lead and guide me on this journey heavenward, I just have to stay by his side.
    Some little things that have helped me stay in the Lord's presence (although I have far to go in maintaining a better communication with Him) are having a regular morning prayer time, putting little things like quotes and images around my house to remind me to pray, praying the rosary, and asking Mary to always lead me to her Son. If I have my prayer time (usually also my morning coffee time) with Jesus first thing, it starts my day off right. No matter how bad my night was, or how crazy my day will get, at least for those few moments in the morning, there is peace. Making a morning offering of my day also helps, giving Jesus all of my works and joys and sufferings to use for His glory. Praying the rosary, although it has never been easy for me, also helps me to quiet my mind and focus on the Lord and what he is trying to teach me and speak to me. Some days are more fruitful than others, depending on how busily my mind is running around. The repetition help me to center my mind, if only for a few minutes, and gain some perspective on the day. I like to have quotes everywhere that inspire me as well. I have a white board that I write them on sometimes, and I have different quotes taped up in places where I will see them regularly. Pictures and statues of Our Lord and Mary help me keep my mind focused also. Sometimes, just the act of lighting a candle can help me remember to pray every time I see it. I often ask Mary to take my hand every time I run too far ahead, like the gentle mother she is, and lead me back to Jesus once again. His grace is there for us, if only we ask for it and stay by His side.

A Day in The Life of A New Mommy

Currently I'm going through an extreme bout of sleep deprivation. Little Buddy is experiencing his first cold, combined with teething, and therefore he has been waking me up six to eight times a night. Needless to say, this does not ensure a good night's rest. In general, my day looks something like this:

9:30 (or earlier, depending on how long I can ignore Little Buddy's wake-up alarm of squirming and grunting)- I stumble out of bed, bleary-eyed, and shuffle my way into the kitchen to put the coffee pot on. Coffee is a necessity these days. I heroically gave it up during pregnancy but I've since returned to my addicted state. Cannot. Function. Without. Coffee. Then I change the sheets because someone's diaper exploded while we cuddled in bed this morning. I am completely immune to all forms of bodily fluid at this point. Wiping baby poop off my leg is simply another semi-weekly occurrence.

10:00-10:30 - I attempt to have my prayer time while Little Buddy insists on my holding him while he fusses and squirms. I ask God for patience and love for my baby and My Love, who has been suffering from all this lack of sleep as well, probably even more so than I because of his plowing and salting duties at his job. I ask Mary to pray for me that I may have her gentleness of heart. I need it. Somewhere in there, I get some bible reading done. Change my fourth poopy diaper of the morning. Wipe baby puke off my shirt.

11:00 - Try to get Little Buddy down for his first nap. My new rule is whatever gets the baby to sleep works. Sometimes its the swing. Sometimes its holding him in my arms the whole time. Sometimes its laying with him in my bed. Whatever floats his boat. Mama needs some peace and quiet.

12:00-5:00 - The rest of my day is spent alternating between getting Little Buddy up from a nap, changing diapers, feeding him, playing with him, putting him back down for a nap, etc. all while trying to fit in a few loads of laundry and maybe some dishes so I don't collapse under the avalanche of housework that is looming above me. Getting dressed? Optional. Putting make-up on?The idea is hilarious.

6:00-8:00 - Welcome My Love home from work while one of us tries to cook dinner while violently yawning.

9:30-10:00 - Bedtime. Gear up to do it all over again.

Now, in case you think that I am completely despondent and depressed and mothering is the worst thing that could happen to anyone, I have to share with you the moments that make all of this, even the blow-out diapers and spit-up running down my shoulder, worth it.

9:30 - Little Buddy smiles at me, a big gorgeous smile that covers his whole face. He squeals and coos and snuggles closer. The look in his eyes is so full of joy, as if I am the best thing in his life, Best way to wake up ever.

10:00-10:30 - I cover Little Buddy's cheeks with kisses while I pray. Baby cheeks are the sweetest, most kissable things in the whole world. And baby legs, toes, hands, fingers, feet, ears, etc. He graciously allows me to smother him with love.

11:00 - You don't know true peace and trust until you have watched an infant sleep. So, so precious. And baby heads are the best drug in the whole world. Don't judge until you try it. Go find a baby and deeply inhale that sweet scent from their head. I know. I'm a total freak. It's ok. I've accepted it.

12:00-5:00 - Baby gurgles, coos, squeals, smiles. The soundtrack to my life. A few wails and tears thrown in here and there, but my ability to soothe them makes them sweet. Watching him grow and learn and accomplish new milestones makes me so proud and happy. I imagine this is how God must feel when we conquer our own spiritual baby steps. You are my beloved son, in whom I am well pleased.

6:00-8:00 - Being parents has brought My Love and I together in a way I never thought possible. Some days, we watch our son grow and share our excitement over all of his little antics. And some days, we hold on to each other for dear life as we ride the new-life-as-parents storm out. But we're in it together, us against the world with God holding on to us. And that's what makes it possible. And by the way ladies? A big man snuggling a tiny infant really is the sexiest thing in the world ;-).

9:30-10:00 - All of us cuddling warm and cozy together. A feeling of family togetherness. Holding hands as our arms drape across our sweet little baby, the evidence of our love for each other. This is contentment. This is what perfect happiness feels like. All the stressful moments, and all the tiredness and fights, the messes and clutter, this moment right here is what makes it worth it all. And I wouldn't have it any other way :-).

Sacred Stair (The poem behind the name)

It's been so long since I saw your face

Heard your voice, felt your embrace

I've been on this journey for what seems like years

Marked by sorrow, heartache, and tears

This lonely crusade has taken me far

And my wandr'ing bark's been following the star

Of what once was ours when our love was new

When all that existed was me and you

On this quest for Truth I've stumbled and fell

Caught on a path between heaven and hell

I've come to the end of all that was Me

And had to place my trust in His sovereignty

But I'm coming home now to the place I belong

Bearing on my lips the victor's song

Promise me that I'll find you there

When I reach the top of the Sacred Stair.

Peace and Trust

The reflection from yesterday's Magnificat reading speaks to my heart:
 "Think of a child asleep in his mother's arms: the abandon with which he gives himself to sleep can only be because he has complete trust in the arms that hold him. He is not lying asleep on that heart because he is worn out with anxiety. He is asleep there because it is a delight to him to be asleep there. The mother rests, too. She rests in his rest. Her mind and her body rest in him. His head fits into the crook of her curved arm. Their warmth is mingled like the warmth of two softly burning flames. She rocks to and fro, and her rocking is unconsciously timed by his breathing. Rest is a communion of love between them. It is a culmination of content: on the child's part, utter trust in his mother; on the mother's part, sheer joy in the power of her love to sustain his life.
    Such as this was the rest of God in the beginning of time, when he had created the world: And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had done.
    God could not need rest. He could not be tired by creating the world. His rest was the infinite peace of infinite love. ~ Caryll Houselander"

    It seems to have been written for me. I lay in bed in the morning, tired from a long night of interrupted sleep. Little Buddy has been up many times last night, fractious and complaining because of the coming arrival of his "pearly whites", which have yet to make an appearance. I lost track of the number of times I woke to his rustling and tiny moans. And yet, in spite of the frustration and exhaustion, I truly am completely at peace, as the quote says. Nestled in my arms, Little Buddy's chest rises and falls in silent rest. His feathery eyelashes brush his cherub cheeks, and I marvel at his being. He is part of me. A perfect example of the beautiful gift of creation God has allowed us to share in. Love itself made tangible and touchable, in flesh and blood vessels, bones and muscles. I gently stroke his downy hair and brush my lips against his forehead. His little self fills up a baby-shaped hole in my heart I didn't know existed. He is so fragile and little, so reliant on me for his every need. And yet, I realize now how oblivious I was to how much I needed him. God knew. He always knows. He knew I needed this little miracle to draw me closer to Him, closer to My Love, closer to family and friends. Miracle, I call him, for he really is exactly that. A miracle straight from heaven to awaken my heart, to draw my wandering eyes outward and upward, to give me the strength to try again. Thank goodness my Shepherd is in the business of miracles.

   We rest together, warm and snuggly amongst the blankets, until his little eyes blink open. A wide smile breaks across his face like the sunrise, calling into being a reflection of his joy on my own face. Little Buddy gurgles and coos, his happiness complete simply in being with me. How amazing to know that my mere presence makes him so happy, that a smile from me is his whole desire in this moment. And it calls to my mind how much I need this perfect peace, perfect trust in my Shepherd, how much I need to rest in his arms the way Little Buddy rests in mine, to find my whole happiness simply in being in his presence. This is what I will strive for, and perhaps never fully achieve, all my life. And yet here is my little son, who will rely on me to teach him to tie his shoes and fold his hands in prayer, already an expert in peace and trust, teaching me what it looks like to be as a little child and enter the kingdom of heaven.