Sunday Night Brunch

Transient

Yesterday I pulled out my rusty pipes and led worship through song at a women's breakfast. A couple things stood out from that experience:

1. Caprice is amazing to snooze in the ergo as the monitor boomed with vocals, keyboard & guitar during practice.

2. I was actually at a women's breakfast and didn't run for the nearest exit.

3. Not only was I not running, but I was there to help lead in the musical capacity.

4. I miss singing.

5. One person mentioned how great I look postpartum physically, while another said my countenance looked good.

The truth of the matter is the physical is just hidden well. Lucky I wasn't in my swimsuit. The heart of it is my countenance has been weak. Survival mode is an understatement and one week ago all I wanted to do was numb myself with a deep sleep.

I have self-medicated with food to not eating much at all. Finding life, Eucharist at the table couldn't be further from the truth in these days. Although I know it will pass, it feels as though it never will. Saying two to three is a challenge is an understatement. I've gotten the nods of understanding from mothers who haven't encountered this transition as if they know what it's like, when in reality I want to say, "Umm, thanks, but no, you have no clue."

I told Ben how Sundays at around 3:00 denote a droll, quicksand slowly sucking me in...awaiting Sonny & Cher to sing Bill Murray (in this case me) to a Monday tune of I've Got You Babe--over & over. Will life continue to leach everything? Will I always feel this depleted? Will joy return, because if its anything like Sunday at 3:00 with the constant drizzle of anti-vitamin D falling, then I don't know how I can handle.

I know I'm not the only one that feels like this. I know this is not the end. I know God is restoring things as winter is approaching and life is growing under the frozen soil & trampled leaves. I'm believing in who he says he is. And in the meantime, I'm praying fervently. I'm opening myself raw to Ben, my community & my God. I'm humbled to my knees how confidence & strong looks weak in the worlds eyes. I'm the blind man whom Jesus puts the mud on his eyes and sees Him for the first time. I'm allowing others to lead me, to love me, to provide for me. I'm refusing to believe I'm cursed, ruined, or ruining my children.

I'm choosing to eat dinner with my family when I want to retreat. I'm relearning the joy of eating the Eucharist through what Ben deems "Sunday Night Brunch." To beat these Sunday blues, he said, "I have an idea for us to redeem Sunday evening! Since we don't get a leisurely Sunday morning, lets do it in the evening. We'll make omelets, bacon & have decaf coffee." That's what we did!

It was one of the first feasts our family enjoyed just us post Caprice. It wasn't rushed, squeamish, or awkward. The bacon was slightly over cooked & the coffee a little off; but, everything about it was perfect still. The meal felt still & peaceful. It was as if Jesus was showing me a glimpse of what our table would look like in four years from now. I like that place. He really is redeeming my table.

How has he been redeeming yours?

Kamille Scellick