In my own words

I spend a lot of time lately writing other people's words down.  I'm the secretary/ website editor and manager for my local MOMS Club as well as working part time (from home) as the personal assistant/web designer/graphic artist/ copy editor/ all around go-to gal for a friend of mine who has an interior design business that she wants to put on the web. (still working out kinks and adding info to the site, but she is a fabulous designer, if you ever need someone)  With all of this time spent with other people's words, I find that mine are the last to get written down.  I can't journal on paper any more because I've officially lost the use of my right hand for small motor functions (pregnancy related carpal tunnel - don't worry, it'll come back) so this is my journal.  And it gets left behind when I'm busy.  My darling 2 year old, when she sees me in this office chair, comes over, stands at my side and says 'want up?'  So she sits in my lap with her sweet questions and fiddlings, making it very hard to type.  So I give up and we go read books or play blocks or paint with her watercolors.  It's not a bad life really.

But my 34th birthday came and went without much of a blip this year.  Usually I throw myself a cookout, but I didn't have the energy to clean the house, so I settled for a quiet cup of cocoa with friends and then later that week, a movie with my hubby when we could get a babysitter.  I also record the date for posterity to go back and see who I was at the time, or at least a small snippet of me.  So here are some post birthday thoughts.  As was the case in my last pregnancy, I feel very strongly that I am not my own.  Not just because my body is currently inhabited and dictated to by a very small, but very bossy little boy, but because my life and days belong to my family and to others right now.  My home, my husband, my children, my groups, my work, my friends.  They own me right now, and by 'me', I mean my time, my body, my thoughts, and my heart.  It's a season and I'm not complaining, but just writing it down.  (p.s.  It is super frustrating to type with double wrist braces on that somehow manage to delete my words and open  random programs on my computer while I am writing!!)

Middle age is creeping up on me and I don't really mind.  I see my body aging and while I'm a little concerned about how far south my boobs are gonna go by the time I'm an old lady, I realize that not everyone can be medically reconstructed every other year to maintain some impossible standard of beauty. (and actually they never manage to.  Old ladies with lots of work done look strangely stretched and plastic and no longer human. I prefer wrinkles.  It's much more becoming.)  I also love my body when I'm pregnant.  Bulges and bumps and imperfections seem to fade in the face of this growing roundness.  I don't worry about the size of my rear end or whether I have 'muffin top' in my jeans because I have WAY more than muffin top right now. :)  And my hair looks awesome.  Thanks pregnancy!  Truthfully, I'd rather have the use of my hands, but I'll take whatever small concession I'm given and settle for a little extra beauty, at least in my own mind.  I know my puffy face will return to normal and the use of my hands will return and my round belly will (post baby) resemble a half filled waterbed, but for now, for what it's worth, I find myself beautiful.  It's an odd thing to say since most of my life I have looked in the mirror and thought the opposite, despite my sweet husband's vehement protests to the contrary.

I recently read the blog of a young girl who is living in Africa and has sacrificed everything she had to be there and serve God.  She wrote a post about giving everything for Him and how, in her opinion, most people aren't willing to do that for the sake of creature comforts.  I felt a little guilty since my life does not resemble hers at all, with her 14 (yes, 14) adopted daughters (she's in her 20's), her days spent caring medically for the poor, the neglected, and the starved.  And yet, in my own way, I can lay it all down for Him.  This season in my life is about giving myself to others and while I'm not serving the poor in Africa, I am laying down myself, daily, for the purpose I have been given (even when I whine about it).  I get the benefits of being in a place and situation where creature comforts are easily had, but how I choose to give of myself and the state of my heart is what God sees.  I pray that this year is about loving those around me better and laying my own self down in order that others may see the light of Jesus.  And to be unashamed about that.