These are the good days . . .

This was written weeks ago but I never published the post. It was a good reminder to me this sleepless night . . .

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Luke is working late so I have a minute here to sit and write . . .

How I fight against being discontent while I am pregnant. I fight it nearly the whole way through. First trimester? Can't wait for the exhaustion and morning sickness to fade. Second? Really wish that my baby belly would just pop out there so that I would look prego instead of just plain fat. Third? Can we be done already? I'm exhausted. Huge. Trying to find a second every few seconds to run to the bathroom again. :-)

In my laundry room I have decorative plates hung on the wall. They were my grandma's. One of them reads, "The time to be happy is now."

It's been my constant nudge the past eight months.

These are the good days. Now is the season to rejoice.

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While preparing our home for our little girl I have struggled finding a balance between doing and being. I think my husband and children like me more when I take time to "be" a little. *Smile* Dirty floors don't seem so bad when everyone is living in sweet fellowship. A perfect home is hard to enjoy in stress and impatience.

I was praying this morning, asking for wisdom before my feet hit the floor. I was feeling disconnected from Zeke. He seemed different. Not rebellious really or disobedient. Just not himself. Didn't want to help me with things like usual. Just kind of quiet and always doing his own thing.

Two thoughts formed in my mind as I prayed. "Don't with hold instruction from him." "Take time for him." Everything was about the same though all day until this evening. I let him stay up late as Luke headed back to work. He's a bit like his Mama when it comes to going to sleep. I remember lying in bed as a little girl, looking at the clock read 1am, totally tired but unable to sleep. Zeke talks and sings in there for hours sometimes and it reminds me of my own sleepless childhood days.

So we were up late together, putting away the baby clothes that I had washed and folded. I showed him some of the little sleepers, hats and dresses . . . explaining that they were for the baby. He seemed enthralled and so sweet. He would hand me stacks from the basket as I organized the drawers. He put a hat on top of my big belly and grinned.

We smiled. Prepared. Worked. Hugged. Giggled together over whatever.

I silently thanked the Lord for the moments of good fellowship. He hears me when I call to Him. He knows the longing and the desires of my heart.

Such knowledge humbles me.

He desires fellowship with me like I desire fellowship with my children.

With Him there is sweet and perfect peace . . . in every season.