Because His love is proven through His promises... not your current circumstances...
Annabeth, you turned 2 months old today! I would say that it's flying by, but it's actually not. It's going at a great pace, if you ask me. People keep telling me, "Enjoy her now. She's going to grow up too fast." Thankfully, I've well learned that life passes quickly, and so I've really tried to be intentional to do just that. To not wish the time away because every day you're changing. You're getting bigger, stronger, smarter, and so I'm doing my best to enjoy each moment with you, and I hope you're enjoying you're time with me, too.
You had to go to the doctor to get your two month shots today. You got a shot the day you were born, but I don't really remember hearing you cry about it. I was pretty distracted, so I probably just missed it. They brought you back from the nursery praising how well you did with your heel prick, and in fact, every single thing they did to you in the hospital, you took like a champ. Last week, I ended up taking you to the doctor because I was afraid you weren't feeling well. You had been really fussy for close to a week which wasn't like you. Honestly, it was hard not being able to console you. For some reason, I just assumed all mothers had this amazing power to instantly calm their children, but nothing I did really worked. You weren't crying, just being a little grouchy. The doctor looked you over and confirmed that nothing was the matter. She informed me that you were going through a growth spurt and that sometimes growing babies just fuss. I was relieved, and even more so when you returned to your normal self a few days later. And so I have been dreading today's appointment. I really didn't want to take you in for shots because I knew it would hurt. I knew you'd probably feel bad afterwards. And most of all, I knew there was nothing I could do to make it better.
The nurse weighed you and we were so surprised to discover that you gained 3 pounds since last month. You also grew 2.5 inches! I knew there was a reason my back was so sore. You are about the size of many newborns right now, which seems huge to me. The doctor told us that you're in the 10th percentile, so you're a petite gal. When I was pregnant with you, I joked that maybe you'd be a little gymnast. You just might be! Anyway, she looked you over and commented on how perfect you are and how we'll you're doing. After a few short minutes of chatting, the nurse came in with the shots, and my heart sank as I anticipated your little cries.
God continues to teach me so much through this adventure, Annabeth. Watching something that is actually good for you, yet hurts you, is almost more than my heart can stand. You cried for a few short minutes, and although I wanted to as well, I didn't. I tried my best to be brave and strong for you. After all, we can't both be a sobbing mess! One of us had to drive home. But I couldn't wait for the nurse to stick bandaids on your rolly thighs so I could hold you and reassure you that all was okay. But I couldn't explain it to you. I couldn't tell you why you had to go through that or help you understand the reason it's necessary. I couldn't warn you. I couldn't make it stop. I couldn't lessen the pain or take it for you. All I could do was hold you, kiss you, comfort you, and do my best to let you know that I love you.
And that's how life is, Annabeth. Sometimes really painful things happen to us and we don't understand. We don't know why, and even if we did, it doesn't necessarily mean it would make it any better. Sometimes we have to walk through seasons that hurt. Maybe it's physically, but most of the time it's emotionally. And often times those moments hit us out of left field. We weren't prepared. We had no idea what was coming. Things were going just fine and then we find ourselves crying our eyes out because we've never experienced pain like this before and we're confused. We're scared. We don't like it.
But God stands ready to comfort you, Annabeth. Always. He stands with arms open. And even though the pain was a surprise to you, it wasn't to Him. And sure, you may ask Him. "God, why? Why did this happen? Why did you allow it? Why didn't you give me a heads up?" And He may tell you. But if he doesn't, that doesn't mean He doesn't love you. No, His love is proven through His promises, not through your current circumstances. Because He promises that He'll never leave nor forsake you. That He stands ready to help you. That He will turn ashes into beauty and sorrow into joy. That He will lead you through the valley and beside the still waters. That He will comfort you and protect you. That He will be your shield, your hiding place. The rock to which you can cling to. That He will work all things out for good. That He has a plan, a prosperous plan. And that new mercies await you tomorrow.
So know that I'll always be there for you. That my arms will always be open. But when you need more, and if the pain is too much, know that Jesus holds you in His nail-scarred hands and He will never let you go.
You had to go to the doctor to get your two month shots today. You got a shot the day you were born, but I don't really remember hearing you cry about it. I was pretty distracted, so I probably just missed it. They brought you back from the nursery praising how well you did with your heel prick, and in fact, every single thing they did to you in the hospital, you took like a champ. Last week, I ended up taking you to the doctor because I was afraid you weren't feeling well. You had been really fussy for close to a week which wasn't like you. Honestly, it was hard not being able to console you. For some reason, I just assumed all mothers had this amazing power to instantly calm their children, but nothing I did really worked. You weren't crying, just being a little grouchy. The doctor looked you over and confirmed that nothing was the matter. She informed me that you were going through a growth spurt and that sometimes growing babies just fuss. I was relieved, and even more so when you returned to your normal self a few days later. And so I have been dreading today's appointment. I really didn't want to take you in for shots because I knew it would hurt. I knew you'd probably feel bad afterwards. And most of all, I knew there was nothing I could do to make it better.
The nurse weighed you and we were so surprised to discover that you gained 3 pounds since last month. You also grew 2.5 inches! I knew there was a reason my back was so sore. You are about the size of many newborns right now, which seems huge to me. The doctor told us that you're in the 10th percentile, so you're a petite gal. When I was pregnant with you, I joked that maybe you'd be a little gymnast. You just might be! Anyway, she looked you over and commented on how perfect you are and how we'll you're doing. After a few short minutes of chatting, the nurse came in with the shots, and my heart sank as I anticipated your little cries.
God continues to teach me so much through this adventure, Annabeth. Watching something that is actually good for you, yet hurts you, is almost more than my heart can stand. You cried for a few short minutes, and although I wanted to as well, I didn't. I tried my best to be brave and strong for you. After all, we can't both be a sobbing mess! One of us had to drive home. But I couldn't wait for the nurse to stick bandaids on your rolly thighs so I could hold you and reassure you that all was okay. But I couldn't explain it to you. I couldn't tell you why you had to go through that or help you understand the reason it's necessary. I couldn't warn you. I couldn't make it stop. I couldn't lessen the pain or take it for you. All I could do was hold you, kiss you, comfort you, and do my best to let you know that I love you.
And that's how life is, Annabeth. Sometimes really painful things happen to us and we don't understand. We don't know why, and even if we did, it doesn't necessarily mean it would make it any better. Sometimes we have to walk through seasons that hurt. Maybe it's physically, but most of the time it's emotionally. And often times those moments hit us out of left field. We weren't prepared. We had no idea what was coming. Things were going just fine and then we find ourselves crying our eyes out because we've never experienced pain like this before and we're confused. We're scared. We don't like it.
But God stands ready to comfort you, Annabeth. Always. He stands with arms open. And even though the pain was a surprise to you, it wasn't to Him. And sure, you may ask Him. "God, why? Why did this happen? Why did you allow it? Why didn't you give me a heads up?" And He may tell you. But if he doesn't, that doesn't mean He doesn't love you. No, His love is proven through His promises, not through your current circumstances. Because He promises that He'll never leave nor forsake you. That He stands ready to help you. That He will turn ashes into beauty and sorrow into joy. That He will lead you through the valley and beside the still waters. That He will comfort you and protect you. That He will be your shield, your hiding place. The rock to which you can cling to. That He will work all things out for good. That He has a plan, a prosperous plan. And that new mercies await you tomorrow.
So know that I'll always be there for you. That my arms will always be open. But when you need more, and if the pain is too much, know that Jesus holds you in His nail-scarred hands and He will never let you go.
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