When I first began blogging I wrote a blog called, “God will give you more than you can handle”. It garnished over a million hits overnight and since then it’s taken off in ways I can’t believe. It was the start of my blogging journey–the push for me to keep writing because there were people out there who actually cared about what I had to say. I was a lot younger then, was on the cusp of experiencing some of the highest highs and the lowest lows I’d ever experience, and now that I’m pushing 30 it’s funny to look back on that blog and actually be able to still agree with it, and laugh at its own validity.
God certainly allows us to carry a lot simply because He’s certain of his own strength.
And let me tell you something else–He doesn’t care what you think of the plan, because He simply knows better.
It’s a principle I’ve learned lately in so many laughable ways.
If you’ve been following my journey, you know that I was diagnosed with Stage IV Endometriosis when I was around 16. When I was 22 I was given the diagnosis of only having a one-percent chance of conceiving. You’ve probably read about the tests, the surgeries, the chronic pain, the hormone injections, and the sleepless nights that eventually brought me to conceive and carry to term my precious, perfect, amazing little boy. I can fill pages about how prayed for he was, how wanted he was, and how the day I found out I was pregnant was filled with so many squeals and jumps for joy and long hugs between my husband and I.
God knew what we needed! I’d exclaim. He heard my prayer!
And now imagine this.
Nine months go by after having my baby, and before he can even walk or has even cut a tooth–another pregnancy test turned positive.
I took it simply to put my mind at ease after I was having a couple weeks of not feeling too well. Surely I wasn’t pregnant, I told myself while sitting on the bed and looking down at the changing colors on the lines. I was taking every precaution to not get pregnant, my Endometriosis had been growing back at a painful rate, I am still breastfeeding my baby–I can probably keep on going down the list of all the ways it just didn’t make sense.
But sure enough, test after test, it was there in two thick blue lines—we’re having another baby.
It’s another miracle! You might say. God is good!
But let me tell you–it didn’t feel good in that moment.
We were in the process of downsizing from a home to an apartment. We were re-budgeting after a few years of hard financial strife. We were just starting to develop plans to crawl out of some debts and holes. We were FINALLY getting the baby to sleep through the night and learning how to be a family that blends and fits together correctly. We were finally figuring it all out.
We didn’t plan for this second miracle–and it terrified us beyond belief. Nothing has made me lose sleep more than this.
We spent the first week not even talking about it–wondering how on earth we’d ever make this work. Two babies only 18 months apart? Were we insane?!
We held off telling family, suddenly ashamed what people might think. I began to show pretty early (I’m only 11 weeks but my babies show pretty darn fast), and so instead of being excited I just wore looser clothing and started to feel upset about the bloat.
Our mindsets were so wrong. Looking back at it, I’m albeit ashamed.
It wasn’t until we began to talk about it, tell others about it, pick out names, and visualize the coming family member–that the truth hit us in the face with a force that shook us. Even my husband made a comment that put us into utter silence.
“I’m thankful,” he said several nights after finding out. “Thank you for giving me my beautiful children. It’s a good thing.”
I sobbed. It hit me straight in the chest.
How dare I only get excited about the blessings I’ve asked for?! Who was I to think that God actually cared about what I thought in the moment when his vision extends far past?
It humbles me now. It’s embarrassing to think about how I fought seven years for a child and then didn’t think to fall to my knees in thanks when the Lord offered one with ease and peace and no fight.
How selfish and distrusting in His wisdom.
We’ve already gotten the comments–how are you going to do that? How will you make it work? How does two to three kids in an apartment pan out?
But I’ve learned God doesn’t care about any of that.
What He does care about is what I should be solely invested in. How will I refine myself as a mother meant to care and nurture and raise up these souls? How will I come together with my husband to be on the same spiritual and emotional page to always let these babies know we love them and want them and are there for them? How will our home be a sanctuary for our family, regardless of size and price and location? How will we stay strong against the enemies outside our doors that only serve to hurt and berate and destroy?
How will we keep being faithful and trusting and thankful for all God has blessed us with?
God will give you more than you can handle, my first viral blog exclaimed. And I have to chuckle beneath my breath because it’s been proven so much in my life. Two babies later, one step child later, one husband later, one dog later, one successful career launch later, and multiple challenges and opportunities to grow and overcome later–my cup overflows. In many people’s eyes, including my own at times, it is much more than I can possibly handle.
But out of no way, suddenly comes a way.
“…I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:19
I can’t count the many times simple blessings will come out of absolute nowhere. When the bank account says zero, a random photography deposit I forgot about will come through and tide us over until payday. When work is tough and I’m struggling with my sales department–a new deal with suddenly break through and we’re over budget for the week. When the baby is crying and the phone is ringing and I’m exhausted from a long night before, I suddenly remember the days when my house was silent and I was alone and I find the tenderness I need in that moment to hold my baby a little closer and thank God for the noise. When I’m feeling useless, an opportunity to serve a friend in need will present itself, and I am put in use to be someone’s rescue.
My messy car with broken crayons and juice box that is most likely crusted permanently to the booster seat is a blessing.My small apartment with unpacked boxes and neighbors that snore above us and wake us up at the same time every night is a blessing. My clothes that suddenly don’t fit and my bouts of morning sickness that have popped up lately that I didn’t experience with my first pregnancy is a blessing. My tough calls at work and my hard decisions with my staff is a blessing.
It’s all a gift, no matter how it comes wrapped.
My blessings, the ones prayed for and hoped for and the ones I didn’t even imagine up myself, are products of a God that loves me and trusts me and only cares about the “why”, and not necessarily the “how” of it all.
So I will handle it. Blessing upon blessing, challenge upon challenge, diaper upon diaper and exhaustion upon exhaustion.
I will handle it, hopefully with a little bit of grace mixed with drool and wet kisses and pink cheeks and moments of enlightenment amongst the noise.
Because I have been given so much.