Anywhere I go with my babies, somebody blurts out, “You have your hands full!” I’m not exactly sure what to make of that sentence. At first, I was a little bit hormonal and wanted to give a sharp reply. Then I realized that words can be prophetic, and I took the sentence for what it means: Look, God filled your hands with two daughters! Wow! When I get told my hands are full, I now say “thank you!” And I’m one degree shy of saying “yes, praise God they are!”
I used to have my hands open and surrendered to the Lord. I used to take pictures of my empty open hands, and also my feet in random places.
My life was all about my traveling feet and my surrendered hands. I prayed for “full hands” every single single day. Yeah, that’s not a typo. I have wanted a family, I wanted to be a mama and wife for a long, long time. It hasn’t been a secret desire of my heart, it’s been a loud one. I found in that space of waiting that God was the God of contentment. I learned that if I wasn’t content in my single season, that is, if I couldn’t appreciate His blessing on the day that is TODAY, I would never appreciate my kids or husband when I had them. They’d be tossed into another unfulfilled day in my future life, another day with an ungrateful and grumbling heart, of finding yet another reason to complain! If we have our eyes constantly roaming for what is lacking, poking holes into our peace, playing hide and seek with fear and doubt, and accusing God of withholding His blessings from us, then we are wasting today and certainly are not training ourselves to appreciate what we are given. And my gosh, are we miserable companions when we fall into those ruts! What’s on the top of your conversation topics? Top ten reasons today sucks? So and so really irks me? God is showing me how to navigate my frustrations and highlight the goodness. I know that walking with God isn’t rainbows and butterflies every day, but rather the honest dialogue of suffering and comfort, trial and breakthrough, the tension of what is and what is to come while firmly being held and loved by the One who was and is and is to come. He doesn’t change. He was the One beaming on my wedding day, and as I gave birth to my babies, and the other day when we wandered around a library looking for the story time location. He’s with me engaging the sink of dirty dishes, and at 4am when my baby wakes up to nurse. He’s the One in communion with me, ready to embrace me in my weakness and pour out His strength through me. I’m finding Him more and more in the small moments. Nibbling on my baby’s chubby cheek, and sniffing my toddler’s lavender-scented hair. When I hear her singing a new song, my heart soars. Is that what He feels? It must be. It’s not all poop diapers and screaming, trust me. It’s not just sleep deprivation and wrangling them into car seats, there’s more to it. Becoming a mother is by far the most sharpening and awesome blessing God has given me, along with marriage. Having the eyes to see the blessing in my single season has morphed into seeing the blessing in marriage and motherhood, specifically with small babies.
When I was single I’d complain about being jetlagged or tired from work, then babies came and sacrifice took a new meaning. It’s “but when do I get to go back to sleep?” as I hold a crying baby. Then as they fall asleep, instead of seizing the opportunity to rest, I can’t stop staring at their eyelashes, the cheeks, the lips, the way they breathe. I sit in awe of how they trust me and need me. I’m literally God’s hands and feet to them, around the clock.
And yes, He has His hands wonderfully full.