New Baby, Old Poem

Micah Pardon made his arrival nearly two months ago! Consequently, it’s been a while since all the variables have lined up for me to write and publish a blog post. For the first couple of weeks, the fatigue of recovering and caring for a newborn resulted in less emotional and intellectual juice for writing. (Or maybe staring at my phone all day while nursing took a toll on my brain cells.) Then, after I started feeling more like myself, we went on a long road trip to visit family in North Dakota. Now I’m back but still don’t have much content ready, so I thought it would be a good time to dig up an old poem. Today’s post will be a little different: I’ll start with a few pictures and a brief update and then I’ll share a poem I wrote in 2019. It’ll be disjointed, but that’s life right now.

Micah’s birth was a wonderful experience. I had thought Hosanna’s birth was good, but there were multiple factors–waterbirth, having Caleb more involved and the midwife less involved, listening to music, holding a crucifix during contractions–that made this second homebirth even better. I couldn’t have asked for a better birth. (Okay, maybe I would have liked him to come by the due date, and I could have done without the false alarms of pre-labor, but overall it was amazing.) We are so thankful to God for the safe arrival of this little guy!

The baptism was an exciting day for all of us. Members of both our families, as well as a dear friend from our home congregation in Tennessee, made the trip to meet Micah and witness his baptism. Thanks be to God for bringing little Micah into His kingdom!

Hosanna loves being a big sister. She is the sweetest and most enthusiastic little helper!

***

And now–I warned you this would be disjointed–for the poem. I can’t take full credit for this one because the first phrase came from a conversation with Caleb. He said something on one of our dates about “reveling and resting” in Christ. I loved the alliteration and decided it belonged in a poem. I wrote it a few weeks later while visiting some wonderful friends. Their trust in God’s faithfulness in the midst of suffering and loss provided the backdrop for the poem, especially the line about “trials of the night.”

Solus Christus

Reveling and resting in the risen, reigning Christ,

Every day delighting in His mercy and His might,

Treasuring and trusting Him in trials of the night,

Listening to the Lord of Love who speaks, and all is light.

With Him I am crucified–my Christ, my King, my All.

With Him I am raised anew and “Abba! Father!” call.

By His Spirit I shall walk, for in my strength I fall.

On His faithfulness I rest, for my own faith is small.

One More Thing (A Poem and an Update)

I made a loose policy when I started this blog not to apologize for absences or delays between posts. I can’t count the number of letters, emails, and texts that I’ve begun by saying, “It’s been way too long since I last wrote” or “Sorry it’s taken so long for me to reply.” I didn’t like the thought of all my blog posts starting that way, and I wanted to keep my posting schedule flexible. However, in this case, I feel that an explanation of my absence is fitting.

A second little one is on the way! While I can’t praise God enough for the wonder of this new blessing, this second pregnancy has been harder on me physically and emotionally. The fatigue has really gotten to me this time, and blogging (along with many other things) took a backseat to free up space for naps. Additionally, the emotional drain of the fatigue left me less interested in exploring fun ideas for the blog.

I can’t say yet whether I am back to stay or just popping in to share a short poem before another months-long break. But I am back for today. The second trimester seems to be bringing more energy with it, though I’m scared to take anything for granted at this point.

*****

This is a poem about fatigue. It’s about those days when the simplest task feels like an insurmountable wall–a wall that’s insurmountable but must be scaled nonetheless. It’s about the times when you feel like you’re already at maximum capacity just performing the bare essentials of life, and the thought of one more thing makes you want to collapse.

And it’s a poem about the comfort of the Gospel. I don’t always understand how these fit together. The relief of the Gospel may not make me feel better or give the longed-for boost of energy. But the comfort is true. Christ provides the one thing needful that shall not be taken away (Luke 10:42). He gives me Himself. Even when I feel unable to give anymore, He will not cease to give to me through His Word and Sacraments. “No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly,” the psalmist reminds us (84:11). Sometimes energy feels like a good thing that God is withholding from me. But my God, whose “power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor. 12:9), will give what is good in His good timing. “The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want” (Ps. 23:1). 

One More Thing

My body longs for sleep again,

Although the day’s half spent. 

Just half the day but all my strength. 

I wonder where it went.

I’ve hardly finished any tasks,

The work is just begun,

And yet I groan to think of more,

Of one more thing, just one.

~

The smallest task now seems so large –

Too large when strength is small.

The weight of work that once was light

Now makes me stagger, fall.

“I can’t!” I cry, but know I will,

For this too must be done.

I look in vain to find the strength 

For one more thing, just one. 

~

His Word, His Sacrament: my hope.

For here is all I need.

The one thing needful – not a work

But gift that’s given to me.

The Lord’s my Shepherd, though I walk

Through darker vales today.

He makes me rest, prepares a feast;

He comforts all the way.

I shall not want when He is near;

My Shepherd will provide. 

I’m built, sustained, and nourished

By the fountain from His side.

And though I may not feel the strength,

Or see unmasked His face, 

His blood and water flow for me –

Salvation, life, and grace.

He has supplied my every need.

In Him my work is done.

No good thing by Him withheld,

Not one good thing, not one.