The ReeWrite

just a week shy of her turning 7 months and finally got around to take her 6 month photo 😅😮‍💨

but that feels about right for this season. time is just going a little too fast and we’re doing our meager best to keep up.

it feels weird to describe a baby as joyful because she is, in fact, a baby and i don’t really know if her emotions run much deeper than happy, hungry, fussy, teething, and so forth.

but joyful really is the only word to touch the lightness and levity she so wholly contains and we are grateful to be graced by every ounce of it 💛

ok see yall next week for next months pic!!!

because it’s christmas (and at christmas you tell the truth)…we’re tired.

(but also very, very thankful 💛)

merry christmas — from our family to yours ✨

God has felt so quiet to me this last year. Not absent, exactly. More like that thing where you can’t see faces in a dream.

Glimpses and context remind me He’s near. Penny’s birth, for one. Jo’s pingy voice asking to “hold you” when she wants to be picked up. The jewel tones of fall finally finding Texas earlier this month.

But more often than not, the sheer volume of this season of life drowns out any hush of that faceless Holy. Our house is loud. The news is loud. My long, labored exhales of trying to self-regulate because that’s what good moms do!!!! are surprisingly loud.

Maybe better women than me are able to hear God’s voice above all that.

But not me. Not recently, at least. And with that has come a dull loneliness I haven’t quite been able to name until now.

Advent catches me off guard every year. This holy halt given to us just as I pick up the pace to wrap up quarter-end reporting at work, pull down our winter coats from whatever box we stuffed them in last spring, and, oh yeah—drip the faucets! use my FSA funds! consider the ethical implications of telling our kids about Santa! set resolutions! vacuum the dog hair! eat lunch!

I told my therapist yesterday that I feel like all my neurons are shaking all the time. I wasn’t sure what I meant at the time. But this morning, sitting in the unlikely quiet of a house where everyone is still asleep, the Christmas tree glowing beside me, the dog keeping my feet warm with his belly, I wonder if it’s simply that I’ve thrown all my weight behind all these things—and the abruptness of Advent’s signal to slow down has left my insides reeling.

A whole-body reaction.
The physics of grace leaving me shaky and aware.

Maybe the volume of God isn’t the issue. Maybe He has no interest in competing with the static. Maybe I’ve been sitting here, discouraged and a little resentful, waiting for Him to be louder—and He’s been waiting there, affectionately, inviting me to slow the hell down.

chat has the kindness to leave out all my postpartum unhinged 2am questions and we love her for that 🫶

tell me what yours was!! 👇