my heart, so like a balloon

When I found out that I was pregnant with Maddy, I felt like my heart would explode with the sheer joy and excitement and absolute fear that I instantly felt. I had never felt so content, proud, and elated than in those first few moments. Then, as time wore on and I started to realize that I was actually going to be a mom, responsible for giving and sustaining a tiny little life. At that point, I knew something with absolute certainty- I was about to experience something that would not only change me forever, but would finally allow me to be who God has been shaping me to be. My little heart expanded.

When Maddy was born, everything was blurry. Fuzzy like an out of focus lens. I knew that something had changed in me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Even as I sat, useless in the care of my daughter, staring at her tiny body and crying, I knew everything was different. And, even with the heaviness of the situation, my heart expanded.

The past four months, with its trials and the ensuing fear, challenged everything I knew about faith and trust. I struggled to make sense of a lot of things- emotions I had never felt, a financial situation I had never been in, a future that included a sweet baby- my responsibility, my life's work. I am still trying to navigate the tricky terrain of emotions. And still, my heart is expanding.

With each smile on her sweet little face, with each silly giggle, with each happy kick- like air into a balloon- my heart expands. With each new challenge, with each passing day, with each tenuous step- it expands still. And in the hardest times...when things sit on me with their full weight bearing down- my heart expands, making more room for my Jesus to fill with love and comfort. And then, it expands ever more.

Today, driving home from picking Maddy up, I was exhausted. We had a rough night, both of us low on sleep. I just wanted to get to my house, put on my pajamas, cook dinner, and get settled on the couch. Well, Maddy started screaming about 3 miles from my mom's house. She was hungry, or hot, or hurting from reflux, or just plain mad that she had to be in her car seat. Whatever it was that got under my little girl's skin- it got louder and louder as the miles passed. I sang, I told stories, I replaced the pacifier. Nothing helped. I felt my nerves began to fray. 26 minutes of non stop screaming. I could reach back and feel that her head was sweaty from the effort of crying. I drove carefully, resisting the urge to jump curbs and do anything to get her out of that seat and into my arms. I began to cry. Of all the things a mother must endure- anything that causes her children pain or discomfort is the ghastliest. I could be home everyday, spend every moment tending to her every need, and still not be able to keep her from feeling the discomfort of reflux and a slow digestive system. There is nothing else I can do to keep her from those terrible cries. And yet, with every passing moment, God grants me the privilege of letting my heart expand to hold all of it in....otherwise, I would burst. There are too many things to feel, too many things to collect inside my heart. Yet, He just stretches it, makes more room for me to stuff things in.

Soon, I will be nothing but a big, full to the point of popping, heart. It will continue to grow, I will continue to learn and feel and experience the largeness of motherhood. And all the while, God will be in His rightful place...in the center of it all...in the secret and sacred spaces of my heart...constantly making more room for Himself but letting me keep all the other stuff too.

God is sovereign.
Jesus is enough.