mission

Things have changed.  Quickly, unexpectedly, drastically.  Things are different now than they were at the turn of the new year.  I have had to rush, hurry to catch up to the changes.  My mind has yet to wrap all the way around it.

Every time a friend whispers, "you're going to be a mommy," it's as if I am jolted back to reality.

My belly is just now starting to grow.

I am hungry all the time.

The fatigue is ebbing, I have a lot more energy in week 16 than I have since January.

The nausea is intermittent and almost seems spiteful.  I've figured out how to combat it, but not without some terrible bouts.

I'm doing most of this on my own.  Most of this I'm just taking with stride, rolling with the punches.  I am in survival mode.

And sometimes... I even forget to pray.

Until I start feeling poorly.  Until my stomach starts hurting.  Until I have a negative encounter with someone who will highly impact my child and my life.

Then I thank God for not leaving me even when I suck.  And I remind Him I have no clue what the hell I am doing.  And beyond the few things I can do to help, my baby's life and health are in His hands.

My baby.  My son or daughter.  In five months, I will have a baby in my arms.  With dark skin and hair and a name I choose.  This child will be mine to raise.  To teach.  To love.

This, in part, has become my mission.

But satan's biggest attack on my life right now is trying to convince me it is my only one.  That upon having a child, carrying, birthing, and bringing a child into the world on my own... everything else will cease to be.  That all other opportunities will fade away.  That any other dream I may have had, is gone.  Unattainable.

This isn't true.  It's just a nasty lie.

And when I recognized it as such, I heard my Father's voice.  Speaking life and peace, consistently and quietly.  Faithfully.

If I let go of who I am, the dreams I have, the passions God has cultivated in me over the past few years, then I will not be a good mother.

Just because part of my story changed, does not mean my purpose did.  Does not mean God cannot use me.  It just means ... things change.  And God does not.