A Lesson in Embracing
The following is the first instalment of “Lessons Learned Lately”. A lesson from our Harbour House, written shortly after we had moved in. A lesson in not rushing through to the end.
Moving day was long. I was on my feet a lot, not doing the moving myself, but directing "traffic," each box and furniture into the right room. When everything was inside, I locked the door and went back to the old house for some good ole moving day pizza. Then, while Bob had his very last MBA group meeting over Zoom, I packed the girls into the car and brought them to the Harbour House.
The movers had reassembled the girls beds, and before dinner, Bob and his dad had popped over and built our bed frame. I had planned ahead and new exactly where to find clean sheets, the familiar pillows, and the much beloved bedtime stuffies. So while the girls ran around all the boxes, exploring and making up games, I got to work settling into our new home. Essentials first: fresh beds to sleep in and toothbrushes to brush teeth.
By the time the girls were in bed, I was wiped. At 34 weeks pregnant, my feet were swollen, my heavy belly was making my back sore, and (this may be tmi) after 2 other babies, my pelvic floor muscles were telling me to rest. As I slowly walked around each room, I was simulatneously overwhelmed and excited. I had a vision for each room: where the furniture would go, what the vibe would feel like, what would be stored where. But here I was, unable to lift a box, or shift anything over 30 lbs.
It was then that I recognized within me this desire to jump to the end, to be past the messy middle, the chaotic transition, and reach the end goal without the pushing through. I wanted the reward without putting in the work.
My daughters do this a lot: they want the satisfaction of finishing a puzzle, but complain about how it is too hard for 3/4's of it; they enjoy a tidy playroom, but don't want to put in the work to put things away; they want the muffins before they are fully baked and cooled down enough to eat. It's a lesson I am continually trying to teach them: perseverence, that we can learn more in the journey than in the destination, that it builds character, that the finished product will be that much more rewarding.
So here I was, surrounded by piles of boxes and furniture in it's wrong place, realizing that I had an opportunity in front of me. I could push and push and push myself and those around me to reach the end goal faster. Or I could embrace the process of setting up this home to be a place of rest for my family and those who visit. I choose the journey.
Jesus set this example for us. He didn't rush through the hard things to get to the end. On His way to heal the centurion's daughter, He was waylaid by the woman who was bleeding and touched His cloak. He took His time to meet her needs. And while everyone else thought hope was lost for the young girl, she too was healed. When news came that Lazurus was sick,Jesus waited three more days. Upon meeting Mary and Martha, He wept and took time to grieve with them the death of His friend, their brother. And then He did what He was always intending to do, raise Lazurus from death to life. Even as He himself was tortured and beaten and hung dying on the cross, He did not rush through the pain and the process of Good Friday even though He knew Sunday was coming.
A week later, and my house is completely unpacked and set up, with everything having a place. There are a few things left to hang on the walls, but that will happen when we have a few moments. It probably took the same amount of time. (And there were probably a few times I overdid it JUST a little... don't tell my father-in-law or my mother I helped Bob move a heavy shelf downstairs...). And while my body may be tired, my heart is not. I feel settled, not because of the "stuff" but because I actively chose to be present in my body and mind with each open box and sorted shelf.
And this is just the beginning. In 26 days I will have a C-section and get to meet our baby boy. Now that his room is all set up, I just want him to come already. But there is something to be learned in these next few weeks of waiting and preparing. Then will come the 6 weeks of healing from the C-Section. And at some point in the next year, we will move again. Gosh, I just want to know all the answers to all my questions, to not have to walk through the messy middle. (Ironic, given I just spent the last 12 months diving into stories of faith in the messy middles of life...).
I feel like this is a lesson I am constantly learning and relearning and reapplying. Everytime is an opportunity to lean in a little deeper, let it sink further, and make intentional decisions that lead to a healthier heart and mind.
Here I am, now on the other side of the waiting for baby, the C-section, and the 6 weeks of healing. Except that this time around, the healing is a little slower. And as I re-read what I wrote over 2 months ago, it is preaching to my heart again.
Slow down Anne. Don’t rush through this time. There is something to be learned here in the middle. There are precious moments to be remembered. Soak in every infant cuddle, every diaper blow out, every midnight cry, every tinge of discomfort at the incision that reminds you of just how strong my body really is. Don’t rush the process. Embrace the messy. Meet the needs. Find the joy. Look for the life. Let it draw you closer to the Father and Healer who will heal more than just your body.