These teeth might be the ones that take us both out. Sweet Georgia is growing her bottom molars and she is sufficiently miserable. She cries nonstop, doesn’t want to eat or drink. She doesn’t want to be held or put down. She’s only happy in her stroller or her car seat and only if we are constantly moving. So you can see how that’s an issue. And today as I muddled through some of the responsibilities of being grown: cooking dinner for 11 people, sweeping and mopping the floors and doing the laundry that never ends, I finally sat at my kitchen table and watched Georgia push away my every attempt to get food inside of her. While she screamed on the outside, I screamed on the inside.
I text my mom, “I feel like I’m drowning.” Because I did. It felt like the waves were crashing over me and I couldn’t find purchase beneath me. I was slowly sinking under the surface of grace and for just a moment, I placed my head in my hands and seriously considered just going to bed. Sure. It was 5:00 pm. There was homework to be done, food on the stove and laundry that would mildew if left unattended. And I just didn’t freaking care. I was ready to cry uncle, tap out, nose goes, not it…any and all of the above. But I dug down deep, found my give a dang, pulled it together and kept on adulting.
It is now 8:30. Almost an acceptable time for an adult to go to bed. And Georgia is still crying. The laundry is still running. The floors need to be swept and mopped again because you know, life. But I’m not drowning anymore. I don’t know why that is. Maybe it’s because my mom stopped by on her way home from work with a bucket of ice cream and a really good hug. Maybe it’s because I stopped all the doing and now I’m just holding hands and babies.
I poured from an empty place today. And I really hate when that happens. Sometimes I don’t know how I get empty. I did all the things I’m supposed to do. I got up an hour before the sun or my children and spent quiet time with Jesus. I read my Bible. I prayed. I told a stranger about God’s love at the park. There’s a constant stream coming in but somehow I still managed to get emptied out. I know I said that I’m supposed to do these things but honestly I want to do them. The steady flow of communication is often the only thing that keeps me going throughout my day. But today I still found myself frustrated, exhausted and more than a little overwhelmed.
As I’ve laid here and held GeeLee, she has pushed me away, hugged me, climbed on top of me and pushed me away again. She rubs her eyes because it’s two hours past her bedtime and she just can’t seem to get comfortable. She is experiencing a growing pain and all I can do is hold her and pray over her and tell her how much I love her all the while she pushes me away and then pulls me near again.
And once again, I find Abba in these little things. Sometimes growing hurts. It’s uncomfortable. And all He can do is hold me and whisper just how much He loves me. And while I push and pull He is always near, arms open, totally confident that this part doesn’t last forever. He is filling up my empty places. Stretching the places that have gotten stiff and sore from neglect or misuse. Letting me learn the lessons that can only come from the season of growing.
Kassie Beckman 
❤️❤️❤️
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