Leigh Kramer

It Is You Who Inspires {Letters to Pearl}

Photo via PearlJoyBrown.wordpress.com

Dear Pearl,

I've been praying for you, baby girl, since a few weeks before you were born, when Amanda first told me about you. I prayed for you still more when I attended the fundraiser in your name, when artists I admired sang on your behalf and people signed up for silent auctions. None of us knew what you would bring into our lives, only that you were coming and we would pray over the mystery and joy of your birth.

And then, here you were! I woke up one Friday morning to a text announcing your birth and that beautiful picture of YOU. You, alive, fighting, here. My heart grew fuller than full at the knowledge you would be staying a bit longer than we knew possible.

Wouldn't you know, baby girl? You're still here. Each day and week a celebration. Some days filled with more unknowns and less rest for your parents than others. And yet, you're here.

You, with the red hair and tiny peanut body.

All I can think is: thank God your parents decided to give you a chance. And thank God your life has intersected with mine.

I didn't expect to ever meet you. I simply committed to praying for you before you were born and after.

I didn't know your parents before you came into this world. Our paths would have crossed eventually, given the friends we have in common, along with attending the same church.

And yet, we're meant to be in each others lives, Pearl. For so many reasons. For my privacy and yours, I won't write about the particular details though I continue to marvel over them. Your parents know those reasons and they are beautiful. I have been honored to play a part, small though it may be, in your young life.

Photo via Amanda's iPhone

A few weeks ago, I sat behind your parents at church and met you for the first time. There you were, content in your mother's arms. There you were, gazing into your dad's eyes. Beautiful through and through.

I dare say you will continue to surprise us all, Pearl. And I suppose that is the best sort of life to lead: one that does not follow a designated path but meanders with the twists and turns of our own unique selves.

{Though I hope and pray the medical aspect of your life will become less unique and unpredictable over time. Just saying.}

You will continue to touch lives, Pearl. Your story makes the rounds of the blogosphere, yes. But it is you, baby girl, who inspires this outpouring of love. It is you who has drawn a community together. It is you who teaches us all these amazing lessons of life amidst the bittersweet. It is you who points us to a God who does more than we ask or imagine, even in life's uncertainties.

It is you who lives. It is you who mystifies doctors. It is you who has caused a medical community to put the pieces together in favor of life.

And yet, you are still a baby girl. There is no pressure for you to be anything other than your lovely self.

We love you, Pearl Joy. And we all look forward to seeing what comes next.

With love,

Leigh

This post is part of the Letters to Pearl link up, hosted by Life. Edited. Be sure to read the rest of the posts.

This is not the first time Pearl Joy Brown has been mentioned here. If you've missed her story, please go here to read Ruth's letter from before Pearl was born or here to read a recent Washington Times article.

If you'd like to support the Browns, you can go here to donate toward a van so the family will be able to leave the house together. You can see how the fundraising is going here.

A New Rule {my first Deeper Family post}

“I can't go.” I heard the pain and regret in Erin's voice.

I had expected as much and commiserated with her before hanging up. Mind whirring, I booked a flight from Chicago to Nashville, grateful to find one for under $200 at such late notice. I removed odds and ends from my luggage and tried various configurations until the bulky shower gift and my clothes fit in one bag.

Is this how it would be from now on?

My two best friends were pregnant at the same time. I was thrilled for them. And then this...

Back when A Deeper Story started, I harbored a secret dream of maybe one day guest posting for them. If I was lucky. It seemed such a long shot to be alongside some of my favorite writers. I never imagined I'd one day be asked to be a contributor! But friends, that's exactly what has happened. A Deeper Story launched two new channels: A Deeper Church and A Deeper Family. I am honored and humbled to be writing monthly at A Deeper Family. Today is my first post. Click on over to read the rest.

Reveling in the Now

{If you're reading this via Reader or email, you'll want to click over to see the new blog design. Hint: I'm in love with it.}

It's a foggy, rainy day, the kind that makes me want to luxuriate over another mug of Irish Breakfast tea and peruse the Internets or read a book for hours. Since the baby I watch is napping at the moment, I suppose I could spend my morning accordingly. This is not in the cards, however. Nap time means writing time and so I call up a blank document and stare at the blinking cursor.

This is what the writerly life looks like at times. Inspiration doesn't always come when summoned. Discipline enters the building instead and the first few words falter out until a whole sentence- nay, a paragraph!- appears. And we are well on our way to another.

Still, the window catches my attention and my eyes flick away from the screen and out to the drizzling mist. I take another sip of tea and let the warmth soothe. I will myself not to play the new Avett Brothers CD for distraction. I contemplate evening plans and even what the weekend holds. It is hard to stay tethered to the present.

Last year my prayer became "use even this." A new layer has been added. A layer of hope and gratitude and a touch of reverence. This is my life.

The baby fusses, right as a new idea takes hold. Of course. I squeeze my eyes shut, then tap a few words down so I might remember the idea later. Inspiration has to wait once more.

All this is my life. I will rejoice and be glad in it.

***

One warm March day I sat in a coffee shop with friends and shared a recent realization with them. I'd been thinking about this blog and my message and whether there was a theme or not. I forced myself to look at my blog with an outsider's eyes and really consider the common threads. What emerged surprised me.

The last few years I've been drawn to the idea of what lies between Now and Not Yet. How do we move toward our future dreams while appreciating our present reality? Do we approach trials and difficulties any differently? How do we appreciate good fortune when it appears?

Even though I'm not longing for heaven quite yet (so much more life to live, thankyoukindly), I'm well aware this life is not all there is. There is Kingdom work to be done here on earth; this is our Now, heaven our Not Yet.

We're always in an in between place. We know beautiful seasons will not last forever. The next crisis could be around the bend. When we face difficulty, we long for it to end. We dream, we make plans, we are future-oriented. There will always be another Not Yet. We will always be in the middle of something.

What matters is our attitude, regardless or maybe because of what is before us. How do we strive for contentment when we're in between?

Whether I'm writing about singleness or grief, needing a margarita or celebrating friendship, the common thread has been there all along.

Reveling in the now. Whatever my present lot may be, let me relish it, let me drink it to the full. Let it be said I made the most of my days.

***

It's easier to practice contentment when the sun shines and you're basking in the glow of dreams no longer deferred. It's harder when we're in life's waiting room, unsure of how situations will resolve or when, not knowing if what we long for will ever be realized.

I remember the first time I came across Psalm 27:14: "Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord."

The verse was nestled in one of the Christy and Todd: The College Years books. I lay in my bed, home on a college break myself, and let myself cry over those words. I'd grown tired of waiting for God. The reminder haunted me. Did I wait well? What did that even look like?

A subtle change in demeanor started then and strengthened in the last few years. Whatever I'm facing, this is my life. I don't want it to pass me by. Sure, I'd prefer the trials and tribulations make a speedy exit but not at the expense of learning whatever I'm meant to learn. I think I mean that. Most days, at least.

***

True to Tennessee form, the rain cleared and the sun shone for an hour or so before the clouds reappeared. The baby's settled in her crib again and I'm back at my usual perch at the table. I allowed myself one- OK, two- Avett Brothers songs and a quick once over of Facebook. The tea replenished and now it's time to work again.

I could complain about the writer's block that's developed over a certain project and sometimes I do. Reveling doesn't mean ignoring our frustrations. But I don't want to dwell on them either. I know it's a privilege I could quit my job to write.

One of my favorite Rilke poems from the Book of Hours starts with this: "She who reconciles the ill-matched threads of her life, and weaves them gratefully into a single cloth." Yes, this. This is my call, my dream, my anchor.

This is my Now.

Thank you to Lore Ferguson for my gorgeous new header and blog buttons. She took my limited vision and ran with it. Now that's talent. Much gratitude to wordsmith dearabbyleigh for helping craft my About and New Around Here? pages- her words make me want to be friends with myself.