Thoughts On Being A Mom {One Month In}

I am having a hard time believing that tomorrow, Harrison will be four weeks old.  In some ways, it feels like the days are long, but most days I feel like time has just started moving at warp speed and I can’t even catch my breath.  Do I really have a baby?  Am I really not pregnant anymore?  Are we really a family of three?  Did I accidentally feed the cat twice?  Three times?  Whoops.

Writing has always been such a therapeutic way for me to process stuff, so while I have a sleeping baby next to me (I’m learning that’s not always a guarantee!) I thought I would put together a stream of consciousness post with my thoughts on the first month of motherhood …

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1. I literally do not understand my emotions anymore.  Is emotional dichotomy a thing?  Because it should be.  How in the world is it possible to be so unbelievably frustrated because your baby only knows how to communicate by crying and yet you simultaneously love this child more than life itself and think he is so unbelievably precious, even in his hysterical-meltdowning-state??

Here’s to hoping my husband shares the same sentiment when it comes to me and my hysterical-meltdowning-state.

2. It’s weird to not be working.  Since Harrison was born, there was a huge combined annual meeting of the MA, CT & RI conferences to discuss the merging of the conferences and I followed via Twitter.  Yesterday and today, most of my UCC colleagues headed down to Baltimore for General Synod and, again, I am following via Twitter.  I have maintained such an intense work pace for the past six years that it’s weird to be completely disconnected not only from RCC, but also from the denomination.

And yet … I don’t care.  I mean, I care in the sense that I’m curious about what’s going on and I miss everyone.  But I am exactly where I want and need to be right now.  I love being a mom.  I love having this time with my precious baby, time that I know I will never get back.  I love watching Bruce be the most incredible father I always knew he would be, and yet couldn’t have completely comprehended until now.  I may be a hot mess, I may spontaneously cry, I may be covered in some combination of breast milk and spit up and I may not be able to recall when I last showered, but this stage of life is pretty freaking awesome.  Right now I am learning how to be a mom and there is so much grace in it, I can’t even put it to words.  As hard as it is to watch everyone go on with their work and to feel a little bit stalled in that area, I know I am exactly where God is calling me to be right now.

3. I’ve discovered insta-stories and I love them and don’t know why.  Why don’t I just post everything to my main instagram page?  Wouldn’t that make more sense?  Who knows, but if you want more pics and videos of Harrison, check my stories, because I’m currently obsessed with adding little clips throughout the day.

4. I’m seriously out of the loop when it comes to what is going on in our country.

And for that I am thankful.

5. It has been harder to integrate back into the real world than I thought it would be.  I pictured myself being out an about a lot more in this first month, but I haven’t really wanted to, honestly.  I think part of this is my anxiety about bringing a newborn places – I barely know what to do when he melts down at home, how do I deal with meltdowns on the go??

This has honestly been hard for me to admit because I do like giving off the illusion that I have it all together, but I talked to Bruce about it the other day and he has been encouraging me to have faith in myself, make small trips when I can and push myself so I can get more comfortable venturing out into the real world.

The other day I took Harrison for a walk by myself and he started screaming (I think he was hot, it wasn’t super humid, but the afternoon sun was doing its thing).  The bad news is that I had to push a screaming baby up my hill.  The good news is that we both survived and then watched Moana in the air conditioning.

I also think part of my homebody-ness is just loving being home, bonding with Harrison and being a family of three!  But at the same time, I’m definitely also feeling cooped up and needing some adult interaction.  My friends have been awesome!  They have given me grace in figuring out what I need, have let me have space when I need it and have shown up with food and empty arms ready to rock a fussy baby when I finally ask for it.

6. Chores make me feel sane.  Bruce took the baby from me today to give me break from the fussiness and I started unloading the dishwasher.  He told me to go lay down so I could catch my breath, but honestly – chores help me catch my breath.  In a very strange way, it makes me feel like I have some sort of control over something.  Because when you’re on hour three of a crying baby fighting sleep, you realize how little control you have over other things.

7. Motherhood is overwhelming.  I worry about every little thing and second-guess myself all the time.  I analyze the color of baby poop.  I google a lot.  My doctor hears from us on a daily basis.  Bruce got into bed the other night and said something about not realizing how mentally exhausting this would be.  I think we both prepared ourselves for the physical demands that come with a newborn, but never quite realized how much it would demand mentally.  I think this is going to be constantly changing as Harrison gets older.  My friends with older kids say that in some ways it gets easier and in other ways it gets harder and I can totally see how that would be true.

8. I love picturing what life will be like when Harrison starts coming to church and I start attempting the balance of being a pastor and being a mom.  I had him in the carrier the other day and got emotional thinking about what it will be like to have him in that same carrier at church functions.

(God willing.  At the moment he tolerates it for about ten minutes.)

I’m a PK – I grew up in the church and it was an amazing experience.  The church was my second home.  The people there were my family.  It was part of what called me into the ministry.  I cannot wait for Harrison to experience church, know God’s love, learn about Jesus’ life and ministry, see mama working and find grace along the way.

9. This is going to sound so cliché, but watching my husband become a father has made me fall in love with him all over again.  He is an amazing father and does such an incredible job of taking care of both of us.  Last night he held a crying baby in one hand, a crying wife in the other hand and never once wondered out loud when the last time was that he had a fishing rod in his hand.  He’s amazing and I am so thankful.

10. This is the single most incredible thing I have ever done.  Hard?  Yes.  Exhausting?  Absolutely.  Frustrating?  All the time.  Terrifying?  Good lord.

But it is also amazing.  Beautiful.  Hysterical.

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Grace filled.

Harrison Allen

I realize that this blog is called “Preaching in Pumps,” but, truth be told, I haven’t done a whole lot of preaching or pump-wearing lately.

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Harrison Allen Weaver was born on June 2, 2017 at 3:30PM. He was 8 pounds, 8.5 ounces and 21 inches long. To say that Bruce and I are completely captivated and in love is a total understatement.

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I have to admit, the whole concept of maternity leave is a little bit strange to me. Every now and then I have to stop myself from trying to be productive and remember that my only job right now is to take care of my precious little boy who is only going to be this little once. Everything else – chores, emails, texts – can wait.

I have no idea how I am going to balance this whole mom and pastor thing.  The thought of going back to work already breaks my heart.  But the thought of sharing the church with Harrison – the church that loves him so much already, the church that is a living, breathing and grace-filled expression of God’s love, the church that is my family away from family – makes my heart swell.  I am so grateful for a job that is a calling, one that I have the privilege of sharing with my family.

But for now, I will attempt to settle into my new role as mom, temporarily stashing my pumps in the back of the closet and happily existing in spit-up and milk covered workout clothes.

And who knows?  Maybe I’ll write about it along the way …

Onto the next adventure, friends! <3

Faith Construction

Good afternoon!  Sorry for the delay in posting this week.  I have no other excuse other than I am two weeks away from my due date and we are busily getting ready for my maternity leave at church and the baby at home.  And holy cow, spring is in full swing and things are BUSY at church!  I think I have something going on every night this week – all good things, but I’ve been trying to keep track of everything and I keep thinking I’m going to miss something.

I won’t be preaching this weekend, so I won’t post another sermon until Memorial Day weekend.  Our Children’s Day & Choir Sunday is this Sunday, so the children are leading worship and we have some special music planned.  We’re looking forward to a great celebration with the theme, It Takes A (Church In The) Village!

Have a great week, everyone!

***

Sarah Weaver
Rehoboth Congregational Church
Rehoboth, MA
May 14, 2017

1 Peter 2:4-10

Faith Construction

Has anyone driven across the Tappen Zee Bridge lately? They are building a new one; construction began in 2013 and the project – which is estimated to cost $3.9 billion – should be completed in April 2018.

Bruce and I have taken a few trips down to Pennsylvania in the last year or so and every time we make the trip, we get almost geekily excited to see the progress that has been made on the bridge since we saw it last. I do not know about the rest of you, but bridge construction has always fascinated me. I understand it is an engineering process but, from my background of theology and church, it just seems like only a series of divine miracles could construct something so sturdy over such a large body of water.

There is just something about construction – any kind of construction – that seems so daunting to me. Think about it: You start with materials that, individually, really do not look like much or have all that much function, and yet somehow, by the end of the process you have something not only functional, but, most of the time, sturdy as well.

My parents had a sunroom put on their house a few years ago and I remember sitting and watching their contractor – who is a good friend of ours – work one afternoon. Eventually I looked at him and said, “So you just took a bunch of wood and put it together and made a whole new room on their house, didn’t you?”

He looked perplexed by, what I can only imagine from his perspective was one of the stupidest questions he had ever heard, and said, “Well, yeah, that’s the idea.”

But, again, not knowing how to do it myself, I really am just fascinated when I observe the construction process! It is methodical, it is intentional, it is creative, it is adaptable, it is collaborative and it is visionary.

Which is why the metaphor used in this morning’s scripture has always been so compelling to me.

This morning’s reading comes from First Peter, which is a letter written during the first century addressed to various churches facing religious persecution. The author of the letter draws from the Prophet Isaiah, who said:

thus says the Lord God,
See, I am laying in Zion a foundation stone,
a tested stone,
a precious cornerstone, a sure foundation:
‘One who trusts will not panic.’[1]

The author of this letter makes a promise to the persecuted Christians he is writing to; a promise that their sacrifices are not being made in vain. He assures them that Jesus Christ, even though he was rejected, is a living stone; and, like Isaiah prophesied, that living stone is tested, precious and a sure foundation. He tells the people that they are building something on this foundation; something not only functional and sturdy, but life changing, as well.

And even more than that, the author tells these struggling churches that they, too, are living stones; they are called to allow God to build them into this church – into this “spiritual house” – where they can offer themselves to God. It is here in this church, the author says, that they can gather together, learn and grow in their faith and invite others into the narrative of the Gospel.

This is not a passive religious experience. The author is describing the difference between attending a church and being a church. “Now you are God’s people,” the author writes. “You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own people, in order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.”[2] Yes, Jesus is the cornerstone and the sure foundation of our faith, but we – we, the persecuted Christians who first read these words 2,000 years ago and we, those of us reading them today – are not only building the church, but we are the pieces of the church as it is built, as well.

I think this is where the engineering process stops and the series of divine miracles begin.

So what does this mean for us? As a church, we are not necessarily building something out of nothing at the moment. We are part of the Christian faith that has been around for 2,000 years, a protestant tradition that has been around for almost 500 years, a denomination that was formed 60 years ago and a church that was incorporated nearly 300 years ago. The situation we face today is different than the Christians this letter was first written to.

But I would argue that there is still very much a sense of urgency to the work that needs to be done in our generation. We live in an increasingly secular society; we, especially, feel this in New England, where we yield some of the lowest percentages of church attendance countrywide at 10%-15%. It is not easy to be a Christian in a world where the culture rejects the very notion that faith is something that should be valued. Being part of a church is no longer something that necessarily fits easily into the routine of our lives. We have to fight hard to make church “work” in our schedule and, even then, sometimes we struggle to find balance.

This is why I think it is imperative for all of us to keep in mind that this scripture is not just talking about building the institutional church; it is also referring to the more widespread notion of building the Church universal and sharing our faith with the world.

I believe the authors identifies us as living stones not simply so we can walk into a church and be members, but so that we can nurture our own personal faith, as well.

Bruce and I have talked about this a lot recently, especially as we think about our growing family and how we can be intentional about building a life, as a family, on the foundation of our faith. We know it will not be easy. We see the struggle people of all generations and stages of life have to find balance and are under no illusion that we are somehow immune to it just because I happen to be a pastor.

But I think there are some things we can do – things all of us can do – to try. It might not necessarily look like “church” the way is has over the past 100 years, but it can and will be what God is calling us to do, today.

I believe the most important thing the author says in this passage is this:

Let yourselves be built into a spiritual house … to offer spiritual sacrifice acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.[3]

I do not think the author is talking about elaborate and bizarre ritual sacrifices; I believe the author is reminding us to ask ourselves the question, “Will this bring glory to God?” as we set out to live each day.

Now, will this seem like a silly question when we are doing some of the more mundane tasks in life, like shopping for groceries or pumping gas or cleaning the house? Maybe, but I would also argue that these activities create a sense of home and stability in our lives. And maybe if we approach everything we do – even the seemingly mundane stuff – with this mindset and by asking the question, will this bring glory to God and how, we may find a better sense of balance in our lives.

It starts with the basics. Think about it: When my parents set out to build their sunroom, they did not start by picking out light fixtures and buying furniture and accessories; they started with the basic structure.

And I think as we all seek to live out our faith, to be the church of the 21st century and to continue to write this Christian story, we need to go back to the basics, as well. We need to make a commitment to break bread with our family and friends, find time for personal prayer and devotion, get involved at the church and give back to the community. We need to think about how the different pieces of our lives bring glory to God, in ways both big and small. This is how we will strengthen the foundation of our lives and our faith so it is sturdy enough to withstand everything else we put on top of it.

And I know this is not easy. People are busy, the world is crazy and faith is not exactly mainstream, these days. But here is something I do know about the building and construction process – it is adaptable.

When I was getting ready for my junior year of college, I asked my dad if he could build me a loft for my bed so my roommate and I could maximize our space a little bit more. He drew up some plans and build the loft according to them, but was not satisfied with how sturdy it was when he finished. I remember him saying, “You know, if this was scenery, I would just screw it into the stage to secure it,” and then shrugged, grabbed his drill, screwed the whole thing through the carpet and into the floor of my dorm and said, “There we go!”

We have to be adaptable in today’s world. If we truly want to build our lives on the foundation of our faith, we need to set attainable goals for ourselves, goals that bear in mind the craziness of the world we are living in today and set us up to succeed. For example, it might not be possible to have family dinners every night, but it might be possible to schedule them three or four nights a week. It might not be possible to completely disconnect from technology, but it might be possible to do this for an hour or two every day. It might not be possible to come to church every week, but it might be possible to come twice a month. It might not be possible to join a committee or take on a role at the church that requires hours of commitments every month, but it might be possible to participate in a few projects every year. Give yourselves some grace as you seek to grow in your faith in this crazy world.

I do not think that being the living stones of our faith is as complicated a process as building a nearly-$4 billion bridge; I think it starts at home, supported by our church family and surrounded by a God who is with us always.

So may we all be blessed as we embrace who we are as living stones, building this faith that sustains our lives and truly makes this world a better place. And may we, too, be assured, that our efforts are not being made in vain. May we always remember that we do have to always necessarily understand the process; that divine miracles are happening all around us.

Thanks be to God!
Amen.

[1] Isaiah 28:16, NRSV
[2] 1 Peter 2:9-10, NRSV
[3] 1 Peter 2:5, NRSV