I’ve been pregnant for about 12 weeks now. Just as it was last time, my days are covered with nausea and exhaustion, and it takes my whole being to refocus my thoughts to Hope and Peace.
Last Saturday, Hope and Peace came to our home for a few hours. They looked like a few of our good friends, dressed to clean and rake and encourage. It was a war-zone here; the floor could barely be seen, toys were scattered across every room and dishes piled across every countertop of the kitchen.
I asked them to come and help me. There is something painful and wonderfully freeing about asking for help when you’re most vulnerable and certainly most tired. While Travis worked a part-time job, our surroundings transformed from a battlefield of messes to a sanctuary. I breathed deeply for the first time in weeks and tried to take in the help and love without shame.
I will never get over the effects of kindness and love when they pour over me in community.
The house is messy once more, and I suspect that in a few weeks I will send out that same email again. And I suspect that Hope and Peace will come visit us again. The blessings never die, and in this home they will certainly cover these days of sickness with everything that is good.