The day before my d & c procedure at the hospital, I got a pedicure (and I would have posted the picture, but I think you've seen enough of my toes on this blog).
I wanted at least one thing to look nice and neat and "put together" because I was almost certain I would fall apart.
So even though I had to wear one of those backwards hospital gowns that make you look like a lumpy bed sheet and feel even worse--at least, at least-- I could stare at my perfectly manicured toes and feel comforted to know there is still a woman underneath all this drab.
And it wasn't all dreary. The peace of God was there in that pre-op room with me. In the gentle looks from my husband and his horribly bad jokes, and in the prayers of our dear friend Ruth who showed up at the hospital unexpectedly and whose presence was deeply, deeply appreciated.
It wasn't until after I woke up in the recovery room, still groggy from anesthesia and the nurse blew out a vein while she worked quickly to take my blood, that the tears started coming. And I hate crying in front of people I don't know. Especially over things they probably think to be silly. Which probably made me cry even more.
There's something that happens to us women whose wombs are filled with life only to lose it. It's a lonely feeling. A disconnect. A body awash in hormones suddenly drained. There's this need to find a a rock to crawl under and hide and nurse our wounds. But life and time march on and we are needed in it's ranks.
And even an empty vessel can now be filled afresh.
I see the bowl of heaven tipping, grace flowing slow and thick like honey.
I'm impatient to brim again with it's sweetness, but these drizzles of heaven's bounty won't be rushed.
I'm content just watching it flow, just tasting His Goodness again, one drop at a time.
For only you can fill me, Lord.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, to all of you beautiful women of God and friends that I love for all your prayers! They have brought me so much comfort!