You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. -Ps. 139:5

Psalm 139 was an anchor and comfort for me when I was in the hospital for three weeks awaiting Henry’s birth, and is a monument to God’s tender care for the two of us in that season.

I’ll tell you one thing I’ve noticed lately—that share button is a little too easy to press. I can zing-by-proxy, mic-drop without much consideration. I get all the instant satisfaction, with none of the hassle of discernment.

Our experiences growing our family have not been simple and straightforward.

This morning brought to you by the unexpected joy of discovering a rainbow shining on our floor—and a poem about the same.

On the day after Mother’s Day, when the fun and flowers and watermelon champagne sugar cookies and breakfasts in bed are now an afterglow, and life returns to a more regular, unheralded rhythm of laundry and cutting crust off PB&Js and scheduling doctors appointments and listening to little kids with big feelings, I need to know that ours is a God who sees what is unnoticed.

Today marks one year since I was hospitalized with a pregnancy complication that was life-threatening for both me and Henry.

If there’s anyone on this earth who knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m not God, it’s my sister.