Motherhood, Humility and Empty Vessels

It’s the one and only two preggo pictures for this, my 10th baby. You know you gotta have one. When I say “tenth baby” it’s so hard for me to believe I have ten children. I’m glad and thankful, just surprised and never imagined it for my life. It doesn’t feel like it sounds, apparently. Because when I’m out by myself and someone asks me “is this your first baby” and I say “no”, and then it’s inevitable that I must answer the hyper-ventilating-invoking question, the response feels more dramatic than my life feels.

I understand the surprise, that ten children is not exactly common. But compared with my actual life, we’re just a regular family who drives a small bus. And shares clothes. And hugs more than the average times per day. And doesn’t stress anymore about germs. And, oddly enough, is more excited at the announcement of a new baby than just about anything else on earth. And shares the housework so that really, everybody probably does less work than normal. And has to take turns talking or it can get a little out of hand at the dinner table.

I decided to take another one that showed my belly better 😉

But other than that, I don’t feel different until we all go out in public.

Mostly, at this stage in my life, I’m humbled more than ever. And where I’m not, I’m praying to be. Andrew Murray said, in his book our family is reading again–Humility:

“True humility comes when before God we see ourselves as nothing, have put aside self, and let God be all. The soul that has done this, and can say, ‘I have lost myself in finding You,’ no longer compares itself with others.”

I think a lot about how motherhood can be so “emptying” and how maybe that’s why our culture has become a consistent enemy of motherhood, at least of the motherhood that would threaten to empty us. As my husband read that sentence, I thought of how contrary it is to every message around us–even to our own flesh, and why then, there is such a gulf between what God has said is “right and good” and what everything else poses as “right and good.”

Pregnancy (since I’m here in this time of reflection) is, literally speaking, a body who “empties” part of itself to contain another human being. It’s a perfect picture of a “life-giving vessel”, emptied so it can be filled.

And so it is with us in spirit. God can only fill an empty vessel, a surrendered heart. And then, the miracle of that filling! It is only when we can reach our hands to Heaven and say with Christ, “Not my will, but Thine be done”, that we can walk in perfect peace, knowing He truly orders our steps.

So when another person says to me, “pregnancy is just so hard on your body”, intending to persuade me that I’ve “done” a silly thing by carrying another person, I can exhale with a calm knowing of the greater rewards of being emptied. I’ve had similar, encouraging epiphanies about motherhood and broken vessels. When my back hurts and round ligament pain makes me wince, I tell my children, I did it for you and it was so worth it. I don’t want pain to always be associated with something to be avoided.

Today is the anniversary of the tornado that ripped away all our earthly things. Emptying. Painful. And I can truly say I’m grateful for that life-changing event. It has helped me empty my hands of the more meaningless things in life (although I’m still working on it), to be able to hold what is most dear. I whisper a word of praise to the Father for that too, His perfect will. As a side note, I looked at some of those posts and re-read your comments the other day. Tears just streamed down my face–I probably wasn’t completely cognizant the first time I read them–and they were SUCH a huge blessing to me, two years later, as I reflected on your love and God’s goodness to put things in our lives in order to reveal such love. Thank you again.