i feel like she could come any day.
and my older three, the ones who sense that change is coming, the ones who try to snuggle as close as they can, the ones who struggle with fears of being displaced, they hover close.
and i feel quiet.
even in spaces loud and crowded, i feel quiet.
today, the doors were opened and so many children and families walked through those doors of that old school. i awoke tired, i walked tired, i moved tired and i was worried that all that tiredness would follow me in...
i walked into a blanket of peace.
oh, i was still tired, still quiet, but the calls of merry christmas and feliz navidad and hands reaching out to rest on my belly, it was a cacophony of peace...
women with skin lovely and darker than mine, voices accented with beauty, they reach out and i see it in their eyes - the knowing. the knowing of what it is to be a mama, to have walked tired in those long, last days, and i find myself wrapping my hands around their own and in those moments...
all those moments that have been so empty,
all those moments that silently scream with a mocking to all that this season means,
all those moments that point to empty chairs and broken hearts and shattered lives and estranged families...
He fills them.
quietly and simply.
tony, he was up at 4 and left at 6 and lyla crawled into bed with me at 6:15...
i listened to her breathe quiet and soft as elias banged around his room - a morning person - just like his daddy.
and as i left this evening, he said it to me quietly - i'm going to bring a few of them home with me tonight before the night game, and they all laughed at me as i worried over my messy home and it was in that moment that i realized -
it's okay that it's messy.
life is messy and love is messy and God Himself entered into the mess of a barn.
only two came home with him...
at first.
only two and i watched as elias, he crawled up beside these big, tough, intimidating guys - and all those walls, they come tumbling down in the face of an innocent child and as the door bell rang again and again and those shoes kept piling up at our door and bodies kept pouring in and finding room and once the living room was filled, the basement was used and soon there wasn't anymore room there either...
and i found him, with his sweet smile i've loved for over a decade and i found a spot beside him on the floor.
i know some of the stories that filled our walls this evening,
i know some of the brokenness that accompanies each one.
we are all broken to some extent.
and i sat with a home filled to bursting,
laughter and teasing happening all around us,
my children throwing themselves with abandon into the pure joy that a filled home brings...
i sat beside him with my hand on my belly and my family doesn't look the way i ever thought it would, i never imagined that i would find myself on this path that He has placed us on...
and how do i put into words what these last six months have done? my heart that was so broken that week after christmas 3 years ago, that felt so fragile just 12 months ago, has stretched and grown and wrapped around these kids that seemed so very different from me, but really, truly aren't.
i wrote last year of christmas being shellacked and veneered with impossible expectations, and i still believe it to be true. when Jesus is no longer the focus, we try and fill in that void with all things pretty and festive but which leave us emptier then before that tree began to twinkle.
the radio plays songs of silver bells and families gathering and if i can't be home for christmas, i'll be there in my dreams, but tonight? tonight, i was home. and i was surrounded by a ragamuffin group of kids who are just as broken, if not more, and when our DNA is drenched through with the Blood of the Lamb, it doesn't matter the differences in our skin tone - we are family.
and we love.
and we tease.
and we laugh.
and we cry.
and we stand at the door to wave everyone away because no one wants to see a time with loved ones end...
my belly tightens with each contraction.
i don't know what day she'll come...
but He uses what has been knit and formed in the dark of impossible situations, in the dark of humanity, and He causes life to be born.
i'm seeing this a bit clearer these days, in the quiet and the noise.
or maybe, more accurately, it's Jesus i'm seeing a bit clearer in the mess of it all...
