This past Saturday was our church's annual women's Christmas brunch. We were joined by ten women from our sister church in Dallas, Texas. Each year we invite someone to come and speak at this brunch, and this year we invited one of the women from our sister church to offer the message. She spoke from her personal journey. She shared stories, and she challenged us to dance with God. It was one of the most challenging and beautiful messages I've heard in a while. She spoke about dancing with God in all of life's circumstances, and I had to wonder, have I danced with God to the best of my ability over the past thirteen and a half months? This question got me thinking about what I've learned from both of my babies, and whether or not it's possible for the dance to be different depending on the point in the journey.
Dancing with God: My first pregnancy
My first pregnancy started out with much joy tempered by the discovery that we needed to say goodbye to our first cat, Anje (pronounced An-ya). Within the first week of my pregnancy, we also had the first of two major scares. I started spotting right at five weeks, and made my first visit to my doctor much earlier than we were expecting for an ultrasound. I continued to spot off and on through week eight. During week seven, I spent a day in the emergency room with a more major bleeding issue. I started off my pregnancy with Faith plagued by anxiety because of these events. I have to wonder when I look back now if some of my anxiety wasn't my body's way of letting me know that something was wrong. I think during these weeks the dance was a cautiously joyful dance. I was incredibly grateful for the gift of the child we were expecting.
I think the dance became increasingly joyful over the weeks. By the time we reached the last days of my pregnancy with Faith, I was wholeheartedly dancing. The dance faltered and stuttered when we found out that we'd lost our baby girl. It never stopped, but the tone of the dance completely changed. It slowed down and became a melancholy sway. It was the dance of one who has no choice but to fully lean on the One who is leading. Over the months, this was the dance that taught me about grief and loss.
Through this dance and the beautiful experience of knowing my daughter for even a few short months, I learned about myself. I learned about grief. I learned about what it means to be vulnerable. I learned lessons that have changed me as a ministering person. I learned that ministering to the hurting and grieving is about listening, but not just listening to what is said. It is about hearing what is not said, what the heart of the grieving person wordlessly needs.
I learned about joy. I learned about the joy of new life, about doing your utmost to enjoy every moment of every life that blesses our world. I learned about gratitude, about finding gratitude no matter your circumstance. I learned so much from my daughter and the experience of losing her, but more than anything, I learned to know myself in unexpected ways. God used my daughter to show me what it means to rely on God fully, to show me that God has shaped me into a woman whose strength comes from the Spirit within her.
Dancing with God: My second pregnancy
My pregnancy with N was truly a roller coaster of emotions. Looking back, I know the end of my first pregnancy left me feeling like I was midway through an unfinished race. We wanted a child so much. There were less than three full months between the end of my pregnancy with Faith and my pregnancy with N. In so many ways, the grief was still very fresh when we found out we were again expecting. The first weeks were weeks of ecstatic dancing. There was so much joy and peace. I think I a part of me knew that this second pregnancy was different right from the start. Holding on to that feeling was more of a challenge.
As the months passed, the physical pressures of the pregnancy combined with the grieving process to slow the dance from its initial ecstatic pace. It became a slow and steady dance, moving forward day by day, never stopping the motion, sometimes moving more joyously, other times moving hesitantly.
My second pregnancy taught me even more about relying on God. It taught me about the power of prayer in ways I never expected. Those were months of learning to accept my own personal miracles, learning to trust in the good gifts of God.
Dancing with God: Motherhood
I've been a mother for over a year, but it is only within the last eight weeks that I fully entered motherhood. My miracle arrived early, and our journey together has been a joyous and challenging one. The dance during his arrival and our first few weeks together was one of learning to adjust. It was all about learning to accept that even though our path was not what I had planned it was still good.
Over the weeks since N's arrival the dance has become increasingly joyful. It is a dance that reflects the goodness of God. It is a dance that longs to welcome others to join in. Taking N to church each week, singing to him songs of God's love, telling him stories, reading to him from God's Word, these are all new parts of the dance.
Advent has begun, and we are in waiting once again. Last year, Advent was one of darkness for me. This year, Advent is all about the Light. The Light felt far away and distant last year. This year, the Light has grown and expanded within me. It is spilling out (seriously, it's spilling out in excessive decorating, wearing silly Christmas socks, listening to Pandora's Jazz Holiday station incessantly, and making a variety of Christmas projects!!). This year, the dance is growing more and more exuberant each day. The anticipation of welcoming the Christ child and the joy of the wait are things I haven't experienced in quite this way before.
If your Advent is one of darkness, may you feel the presence of God as you journey through the waiting. May you have patience with yourself and your darkness. May your dance continue even if it is just a slow and melancholy sway.
If your Advent is one of Light, may you shine brightly. May your Light give hope to those in darkness. May you hold in the Light those around you who journey through their darkest days. May you dance exuberantly even if people are watching.
Whether your Advent is one of darkness or Light, whether you are dancing with joy or moving to the beat of grief and sadness, whether you are marking off the days on the calendar in anticipation or as signs that you have survived another day, may we all feel the Presence of the Spirit journeying with us as we wait this Advent season.
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