leaning.

This morning finds me sitting at our kitchen table on a spring morning. The house feels warm and damp from the air that is changing outside. Inside, the baby is fed; a full belly of oatmeal and daddy is awake after a night of no sleep. My little guy keeps calling me beautiful. His night shirt is unbuttoned revealing baby flesh that is soft and pure.

I'm in limbo in my mind as we are waiting to make the call to our neurologist office to find out some information on Mabel's blood work. They called yesterday to let me know that the head nurse wanted to discuss some things today which I wish they wouldn't have done.

Being still and not anxious is much easier when you don't know there is something to be anxious about.

I feel distant from God. There has been no connection to our church this winter, as it has been a whirlwind of changes. Daniel's work schedule doesn't permit us to go to church as a family, the older kids won't stay in the sunday school classroom without me and I have a baby.

I'm not making excuses. In fact, I hate that we haven't gone. I always feel like the 8 or 9 months after we have a baby leaves us desperate for community. It's as if we fall away from the normal routine of churching because we're adjusting to our new normal at home.

Only this time, our new normal has come in waves of change.

New baby. New job. Rache coming. News about Mabel.

Any of it would be alot of adjusting for one family, let alone all of it in a few short months.

There have been moments when I have never felt closer to the Lord. Moments of earnest prayer and crying out in hunger for Him. And there have been moments like today; in the quiet, when I feel distant and desperate for Him. Maybe it's the ease of the spring that causes me to feel this serenity that is almost too eerie. Or maybe it's the knowing that today's news from the Dr. could change everything...or it could change nothing.

Either way, it's an unfamiliar place; this call we're waiting to make, and it's with a plea that I ask the Lord to draw near to us this morning.

Just be near.

With the asking, I must simply trust that He is near like I have done many times before. Because in life, there are days when we feel His presence so real and there are times when we do not. Or cannot. Either way, it doesn't mean that He has left us or that He hasn't been reaching out to us the entire time. It's just that we are human and a block goes up. Outside circumstances distance us from His voice and we can no longer sense Him.

It's not uncommon but it's unnecessary and I find myself in repentance longing for His closeness once again.

So today as I sit quietly near the tumble of our dryer, waiting for a moment that feels like it's shredding my nerves, I find comfort in the knowing of this God who adores me.

Who already knows the news.

Who already knows of the call.

Who already made Mabel for such a time as this.

I find comfort in knowing that I can go through nothing in this life that hasn't already passed through His hands. He has already walked this for me. He was here long ago. He is in the future already. And He remains in the past.

He covers it all for me, leaving nothing unknown or untouched.

Because He is my God and He loves to care for me.

So I'm trusting in Him to do that today and everyday.

Whether I feel Him or not. Because although He gave us feelings, they are not what dictates my Lord. Thankfully, my feelings don't determine His goodness or presence in my life.

He is always here.

If you feel alone today, just know that you are not.

Sometimes God wants us to take a leap and trust Him even if we don't feel as in tune as we once did. There are seasons of distance in life just like there are seasons of ultimate closeness to our King. Whether we feel near or far doesn't change where He is.

He is right there with you--in the valley or on the mountain.

And He will remain there despite you're knowing or not.

So trust that today, and lean into it.

In this home of quiet, I plan on leaning as long as I need to until He props me to standing once again. It never takes long. But sometimes, I need the lean...

into the arms of love.