In the Watches of the Night

In the Watches of the Night:
A Breastfeeding Mother's Rendition of Psalm 63

O God, you are my God.

You let me say that even when there is nothing earnest about my soul right now.

My flesh is fainting and thirsty because this child is gleaning his life from mine.  He thrives on what I give and I can't replace it fast enough; my nutrients transfer into him, I coo and talk all day so that he can learn how, I'm awake so that he might go back to sleep. Its hard to keep up with how much he needs.

I am literally so thirsty that I'm fantasizing about the Brita pitcher in the next room... this kid's bedroom at 3 a.m. is a dry and weary land where this is no water.

All I know is this is what it feels like to need something in a really, really deep-inside way. Exhausted, dehydrated, all-around-mama-weary.  This is the ache of being totally spent and feeling like restoration is just out of reach.

I feel it now in the body but I have felt it in my soul. I have needed the sweet goodness and realness of you, God, needed it like cool, pure water in the desert. And then I tasted it, I looked upon you and was able to catch a glimpse of your power and glory. 

It was deeper and bigger and sweeter than my sadness then. 

It was better than life. 

And even though there is no hustle in my game these days, no passion in my prayers or diligence in studying the Scriptures, even though my flesh seems to yearn so much louder than my spirit, I can still say- you are my God.

I will trust you as long as I live and it is only towards you that I want to stretch my drooping arms. If I'm going to lift my hands and praise, I want it to be for you.

My soul can be, will be, satisfied with you.

As with a dark and quiet room at 3 a.m. when little tummies rise and fall in heavy sleep and I can finally snap my nursing bra back into place and join them.  As with the feeling of floating away that comes as my exhausted body and brain turn gratefully off.  As with the smell of coffee as I climb out of bed and into a new day of giving all that this child needs to live.

The way I crave the good, good, goodness of those things is almost tangible. 

But you, Lord, are even more than all that.  Even better.  Teach my soul to crave you like that.

Because for now it just clings to you, barely hanging on.  I'd never hang tight enough if you weren't upholding me. You have always been my help.  You have never let me wander too far without scooping me back inside the shadow of your wings.  

These things I will remember when I finally get to crawl back into a dark and quiet bed, even if it is just for a couple of hours.  

I will meditate on you in these watches of the night.