It seems that I have a following (albeit a small one!) as I’ve just received my second gentle reminder that I haven’t blogged in a while. I’ve had lots of good intentions, but couldn’t muster up a lot of good to share…shortly after my last entry I saw a huge exacerbation in my baby’s reflux disease.

As in constant nursing, rocking, holding, extreme attachment baby wearing huge.

At the edge of my mommy rope huge.

Isolate and feel sorry for myself huge. (You know, nice productive thoughts like, “This season of my life will never end”, “I’m useless to anyone except in my capacity as housecleaner, cook, and baby latte bar”, etc.)

Pour on the guilt every time another woman admired my “beautiful, sweet baby” (who was being held at the time!) and reminded me of all the blessing of nursing and being home with my little one huge.
Let’s face it, the edge of reason is NOT a pretty place, and I wasn’t particularly willing to wallow in it all over my little corner of the web. It’s okay, I didn’t need to wallow, I needed Divine Intervention.

And my sweet Father in heaven, who has promised never to leave or forsake me, began to send my postcards affirming His love and plan for me.

We were referred to the only GI specialist group in our region. When I called I was told that there was a five month waiting period to get an appointment. That, needless to say, triggered a minor breakdown on my part, but also a resolution to get people praying for me. An appointment came open within the six hours, and my son was seen the next day.
Postcard number one.

Postcard number two: The doctor was wonderful, even uttering the words my heart most needed to hear at the time, “You’re NOT crazy”. AND she started the baby on a new regimen of medicine.

My other postcards have had names: Lori, Laurie, Sally, Niki, Peggy....women who call to talk and allow me to listen and talk to and pray with them. They remind me that the ministry of friendship is powerful. My sisters who bless me by coloring my life with their wit, wisdom, and humor. My college roommate, Theresa, who called at 6:30am from the other coast to tell me the Lord sent a dream to her about me being in a storm—and that she was to pray for me and tell me to look to Jesus as my lighthouse.

With such amazing personal care, how could I not step back from the edge?

Things aren’t perfect. The baby has been screaming more or less all morning unless he’s glued to me, the house is a minor disaster zone, and I’ve just received word that a sweet great aunt is dying from inoperable cancer and a cousin has received orders to go overseas.

However, God IS perfect and good. With his postcards tucked in my heart’s pocket as a reminder, it’s nice to be back.