The hospital halls remind me of pills and staring into oblivion. I can’t get well there. White walls and clinical conversations do not inspire. But home is so dreary right now. I feel like the clutter is moving in on me. I am compressed and agitated. I am stretched taut. I have no loving things to say. I feel anxious and obnoxious.
So I find solace in a cup of Red Rose and a vegan brownie at the Bean Scene. I am pecking at my computer and noticing that the sky is as grumpy as I am. It’s gray, bleak and wayward. I wish I were a better mom.
You heard right. Yes, there is a seed in me—a little sapling, and a divine, unique creation. The nurse let me know in the midst of stark white walls that creation was at play. I was flabbergasted. The blessing I have so desired, but here? Amidst medications and nurses and powerful feelings of self-doubt?
And so God plants the miraculous in the midst of despair. And this mom needs to strengthen her wobbly knees and catch a palm-full of life where she can, because life is certainly moving within.