What I Learned About God From My Newborn

Photo credit: Lisa Stellmach

Delighted to be guest posting today over at Pamela Henkelman’s blog! Pamela asked us to share a story of “refining fire”, a time in life where God burned away something old and brought forth something new. I had this old one stashed away; the memories are still fresh, and the lesson God gave me seems to be one I’ll relearn and revisit in every new season of change.

It was a black, warm night with no moon. The velvet darkness was being sliced to shreds by the wails of a two-month-old baby.

My baby.

I held him close as the volume and intensity of his cries increased. A sob wrenched my chest as I watched my child squirm and scream, his tears squeezing out from under tight eyelids.

This. This was a new kind of pain. A tiny baby, born of my own body, and part of my own soul, distressed and refusing to be consoled.

It was something that hurt worse than any pregnancy or labor pains ever had.

Even the best new motherhood experiences can lay the soul bare and break it into shards. 

Between the hours of lost sleep, the physical fatigue of continual feedings, and the emotional weight of the entire wellbeing of another human being resting solely on my shoulders, I was splitting at the seams. And no matter how much I tried to soothe and bless my baby, nothing seemed to make a difference.

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