Surrounded
Friday: I stand in the kitchen, flipping crepes on the stove when contractions begin. We finish watching Tangled and I soak up every last snuggle with my toddler. I push it off as long as possible but finally head down the road to the hospital to have a healthy baby boy.
Saturday: Our friends visit us in the hospital and hold our baby, only twelve hours old, while I stuff my face with chipotle. They offer to set up a meal train for our family.
Sunday: The sign-up emails start flooding my husbands inbox. “Who are half these people?” He asks with an abundance of curiosity. This is the power of MOPS. This is the gracious gift of community.
Monday: It begins. My sister cuts up and loads our fridge with fresh fruit.
A friend leaves farmers market flowers on my porch, just because.
My mentor mom brings breakfast and homemade granola.
Many many many friends bring us dinner, despite their own busy schedules, children to take care of, and families to feed.
My mastermind group sends a care package, filled with coffee, rose bud chocolates, and the most buttery, cheesy popcorn, which I hide from my family, because it’s just that good.
A handmade card is left on my porch, painted in a workshop I taught just a few weeks prior.
A friend from church drops off the most beautiful box of muffins, which feels extra special because she drives across town to deliver.
My doctors wife, who not only prays for my entire pregnancy, brings dinner and a “big sister gift”, as she calls it.
Farm fresh eggs are handed over the nursery counter, from a mom who has her own newborn.
My neighbor invites us into her yard to pick fruit and gifts us a plastic berry container to bring our goodies home.
Wonderful friends call and text to check in, reminding me I’m not doing this motherhood thing alone.
My husband keeps me hydrated and fed throughout the day. He makes sure I’m taken care of, and for that I am grateful.
And my mom. My mom shows up every single morning like Mrs. Doubtfire. She whips up pancakes, folds underwear, scrubs toilets, picks up groceries, and entertains my toddler for hours.
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For Israel, God provided manna. A coriander substance that rained down from heaven. A divine gift, provided.
For me, God provides literal manna, yes, food and nourishment during postpartum and breastfeeding (thank goodness).
But it’s not just that. He provides people. Community.
It may look like I’m surrounded, but I’m surrounded by You.
Those lyrics repeat in my head. I hum and sing them aloud the weeks following my son’s birth. This transition is rough. I find myself feeling surrounded by all the hard things, surrounded by a lack of hope. But as manna is provided, I’m reminded that He surrounds me, and He provides people, a community, to surround me in the hardest season.
And I’ve never felt more loved.
Kendra
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click Here to view the next post in the series "Manna."
I love you so much sister! You have the most beautiful family and it's such a privilege to be a part of your children's lives!💜💜
Agghhhh hits the feels. Love you friend ❤️