Just what it needs to be

You know those moments of clarity/inspiration/etc. where truth hits you quietly, but powerfully? I love those moments. They are some of strongest evidences to me that God lives and He loves me. And that He sends His Spirit to whisper things to me as I need them and am receptive to them.

We've got two little sickies on our hands this week. I'm pretty sure they are cycling through the same thing that held Eric and I hostage over Christmas break. And the same thing that it seems like everyone has got. Nasty winter sick season. But I'm beyond grateful that we're not facing it this year with a cancer kid. Anyways, Lily is really sick today and we have all spent the day laying pretty low - snuggling, shower-humidifying, cat-napping, sippy cup refilling, rinse and repeat. Lunchtime came around and I reheated leftover soup from last night's dinner and wrapped her in her blanket and held her in my lap at the table. She ate for a few minutes while I snuggled her. And I was struck with how nice it was to be able to sit in our quiet, comfortable house and just slow down when circumstances demanded that things slow down. I have a good job here taking care of our girls. In spite of the less than ideal circumstances, I felt content and blessed.

And then Lily set down her spoon and turned into me and just sat there cuddling. I sat there for a minute with her and then asked her if she was done eating. "No," she said, "I just want to sit with you and sleep - I'm tired." And she closed her droopy, sick little eyes and rested quietly for a bit against my chest. It was a divine moment - one of the ones you just live for as a mom. My sick baby (she still feels like that even though she's turning three in a couple of weeks!) getting everything that could comfort her at the moment from me. Heaven! I looked down at her and also caught a glimpse of the me that was providing all that comfort - still pajamed and unshowered at 12:30 p.m., stubborn muffin-top poking out. I work hard at taking care of myself, but still I'm more squishy and stretch-marked and pale and and and than I wish I was. But that heavenly feeling was still there, despite the imperfections. And then a whispering came to me in that quiet moment in the dining room, "Your body is perfect. It's doing everything it needs to do right now perfectly." And I felt such peace and such gratitude for my somewhat squishy, imperfect perfect body. It was a rare moment of being able to strip society's scales off my eyes and see and feel and know with clarity the truth about my glorious body - that is such a gift. That it can do everything it truly needs to do. It can hold and cuddle a sick child. It delights my husband. It can work hard and do amazing things even when it hasn't had much rest. The squishiness of my mid-section isn't seen by my little ones as imperfection, but an extra comfortable place to lean against. It is a beautiful thing - fulfilling the measure of it's creation. I'm so grateful for the little moments where my vision aligns with Heaven's. What a vision it is.