Rhythm

Friday, January 29, 2010


This is my afternoon sunspot. I sit on the bed for our afternoon nursing, or rock in my glider rocker and watch the sun and talk to baby.

We've settled into a rhythm here at last, and I'm starting to add little things to my day. Laundry-doing so my husband won't have to do it on weekend. Sitting in sun to play my little-used piano, remembering God's faithful as I sing songs I have sun before, as my fingers remember their place on the keys. Picking up around the house, planning meals, answering emails, returning comments. Making time for necessary conversations, for reaching past the comfortable, for choosing vulnerable and welcoming tears.

Sometimes, on the hard days (I've had two this week), I have to make myself stop. Sit down. Breathe. Recognize that no matter how much I do I will not be able to accomplish all I have planned, all I feel I need to accomplish. Let go of the me I think I should be and remember with God that I am dust, that it is His Spirit in me that gives me strength for anything, His grace that must be enough for my not enough on every level.

It helps me. He is my safe place now. There is rest I haven't appreciated before now.

I am sick on top of sick on top of sick right now - a cold and cough on top of yeast on top of gall bladder on top of lyme - I guess this is what happens when you're not sleeping so much. It's always kinda cool to me to get regular sick, the kind that runs its course. It's an odd thing to be thankful for, I suppose, but there it is.

My new computer is almost here, and I will be able to play with the pictures I have taken: Piper's silly, Bredon's smile, his first bath, our new fish, my bright tulips from last weekend's grocery run. I filled an 8-gigabyte card with photos and started another.

And we have a new dream now, one that is coming true, one that will change and freshen things, a new home and an easy move three streets west, with one room that is full of light now and new floors and new paint and two bathrooms instead of our one and four bedrooms instead of our two and a garage for the cats to play. It's not much on the outside, and we had refused it months ago before they removed the fireplace and added a sliding glass door, a wall of light, but now we can't turn it down, this offer for some safe from Pete's boss, from God-who-provides.

I squirm a little to admit that I have already considered that we might have room to have a third and even a fourth little person in our world. I squirm because Bredon's birth is still fresh in my memory, and who would willingly put herself through that kind of pain again? And yet the life...

Every day, I hear echoes of my own birth cries, remember me helpless against the shocking pain of transition, remember how I cried out to God - at God - or against Him - or for Him... Some feelings cannot be defined; some moments can only be remembered, never described. But I know what the earth feels, how it groans to be subjected by His will. I know its travail, the sound of its cry. Even so, come quickly, Lord.

He is near to me now, and I can't define Him or pinpoint Him - I just know it. I have quiet joy, peace I don't understand and I look at it and touch it gingerly and try smiling and it doesn't disappear, not even when I consider that bad things happen and dreams get deferred and hearts get broken and kids scream and laundry piles up and things are just hard sometimes.

That is my light right now, the bright that insists on piercing the dark that haunts me, that has been here since before my baby was born, in the questions, in the frustration, in the fear that God would not come for me. I haven't lived this before, this free.

It is a lovely rhythm, this. It is not too much. It invites even more.

I love that.





(Image © Informal Moments Photography)

23 comments:

katdish said...

Ugh! Beautiful words, Kelly. Enjoy the little victories of the day.

Cassandra Frear said...

Wonderful news on your prospects for a better nest!

Kelly Langner Sauer said...

oh, I do love my current nest - but this new one would be bigger. We might not have to pick up the whole house *every night* to find a bit of sane...

Sharone said...

How exciting about a new home! The sunlight and the floors and the space sound awfully inviting. :) I'm grateful with you for the days when we can feel the sunshine.

togetherforgood said...

Kelly, so thankful with you for the sunshine.

sarah said...

Lovely words and dreaming - but I am sorry you are so unwell. I hope you feel better soon.

Tracy said...

So sorry to hear about your health. That always makes everything more challenging. Your new home sounds like it will suit your family really well. I am glad to hear of this good news.

I have been traveling so long and have missed your explanation of His presence.

Blessings.

Laura said...

Ohhh...
would that we could...
warm the house
with
you.

A new nest
to
catch
light moments
in.

Room to breathe...

S. Etole said...

the light always pierces the darkness ... so glad you can feel its warmth

Corinne said...

We're lacking rhythm... and I so long for a sunny spot!
This was lovely.

Jennifer @ Getting Down With Jesus said...

You breathe so easy today, and here at my own keyboard, I sigh with relief in peaceful unison.

And Kelly? We rejoice when you rejoice. Just as we weep when you weep.

Either way, we are here to walk alongside you. Thank you for letting us in.

deb said...

Love to you, Kelly.
Incredible beautiful song of living.

Dianne said...

Hey Kelly,
Rejoicing with you for your "new found rhythms" and your new home and your absolutely incredible way of writing.

Your work always speaks to me. Oh, how I wish blogging would have been around when I was your age--where you are looking forward, it seems I spend all of my time looking backward.

Enjoy the sun, the smiles, the tears, the kids, the piled-up laundry--

Blessings on top of blessings to you, Dianne

Carrie said...

I'm so happy that you've found your rhythm, and a house! Congratulations!! I know what you mean about the mixed emotions about adding a 3rd or 4th...but this sleepless part is the part I dread much more than the labor. (of course I'm a hospital birther who gets epidurals, so that helps). :)

Deidra said...

"He is my safe place now." You paint beauty with your words. True and right.

Jen Wells said...

Thank you for your honest posting. Your sincerity is so refreshing and ulifting.

I am soon to have a baby, in June. Our fifth child, and I relate to the things you have shared so much.

His blessings,
Jennifer

Vonda said...

I have the same spot in my room...actually, each room has its sunny spot for me. You speak as I speak. I am thankful I came across you...

Claire said...

this speaks of hope and that makes me smile.

blessings to you and the family kelly.

xox

A Simple Country Girl said...

"He is my safe place now. There is rest I haven't appreciated before now." Those two sentences really resonate...

Praying for your continued rest and sunny spots.

Blessings.

Mary said...

It is a lovely rhythm and it is all yours. It is enough for today so be joy-filled in it. God is with you always!

Danielle said...

I'm behind on blog reading, but just wanted to say I'm so excited for you for your new house! I always love moving somewhere fresh and new. Something so exciting about it, but maybe that just me.

Kelly Langner Sauer said...

Danielle - it's not just you. And I'm SO behind on blog reading myself it's not funny. I'm returning comments and trying to get at least to the list posted here. Which is a lot lately. ;-)

Tricia Regar said...

It's amazing how good it feels to do simple things like reply to emails, pick up the house, and do the laundry. At the beginning of this pregnancy, I didn't make dinner for weeks...maybe a couple months. The first time I felt well enough to actually do that?! It was thrilling. :D

As I've been reading over your blog, Kelly, I'm reminded that what you're doing at home is so, SO important. I don't mean that in a sappy way, but in a,"These kids are the next generation, and I want to raise them for Christ!" way.

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