We are now rolling downhill to when baby number five arrives. It seems, like any roll down a hill, that we’re picking up speed as we get to the end here — only a couple months to go.
I am knitting a baby blanket that is halfway finished and staring sort of blankly at the closet under the stairs thinking that at some point I should pull out the old newborn boy clothes and give them a good shake out and wash. I am making a concerted effort (and often failing miserably) to keep my feet up and letting go of unnecessary chores — though it’s my summer vegetable garden that has suffered from that one.
The more babies I have and years I tuck away, the more I know what I know (and also what I don’t know). I am realizing that I am much less an expert on many things that I perhaps, at one time, thought I was — but also, that I am much more comfortable in who I want to be as a mother, wife, friend.
I had a wise man who is progressed in his years tell me the other day (in response to a comment from me that I am a writer who hasn’t been writing much) that the average person doesn’t have much to say before they’re 40 anyway. Maybe he’s right. It does do a person good to have a bit of life experience before expounding on the whole thing.
But by baby number five, I must say it’s feeling quite familiar this time around — and I am thinking less about the logistics of how the whole childbirth thing will go and am dreaming more about meeting our little boy.
A boy! Again — after three girls following our first-born boy. I hardly remember what it’s like to have a baby boy and am curious to watch the dynamic of a baby boy with three big sisters, rather than a big brother to a crew of adoring little girls. I find observing these dynamics and getting to know these little humans alongside my husband to be the joy of my life.
And so, I am nesting and trying not to waddle and remembering that there is always enough time to do what needs to be done.
Which reminds me of a passage in the book Teaching from Rest, by Sarah Mackenzie, that I read recently and then re-read again.
I wonder what Jesus’ ministry would have looked like if He was as obsessed as we are with “making the most of our time.” As Kevin DeYoung said in Crazy Busy: A (Mercifully) Short Book about a (Really) Big Problem:
Jesus did not do it all. Jesus didn’t meet every need. He left people waiting in line to be healed. He left one town to preach to another. He hid away to pray. He got tired. He never interacted with the vast majority of people on the planet. He spent thirty years in training and only three years in ministry. He did not try to do it all. And yet, he did everything God asked him to do.
I find that to be a great relief: All I have to do today is what God asks me to do. The most important thing, of which, is tending to these five little souls beneath my feet and on my lap and on the way.