Prayer Intentions

It's time.

Today marks thirty-six weeks of this blessed journey. With four weeks to go, I'm processing so many emotions and trying to be "ready" by preparing in every way I can. But even now, God is showing me that I won't be "ready;" I will have to let go of the perfection I seek and the superficial peace that comes with feeling prepared. Saying goodbye to Romeo Gerard taught me that. Waiting and trying to get pregnant taught me that. Fearing complete infertility, and still dealing with subfertility, has taught me that. And pregnancy has taught it too.

This pregnancy has felt so surreal throughout; I'm not sure how it is supposed to feel to be pregnant after loss, but what I do feel is disbelief mixed with a routine-ness that is unsettling. It almost makes me feel like I've taken this for granted, though I know that is so not true.

Even with my belly out to here, I often don't feel like this is real. There are moments, of course, when I allow myself to really feel the joy of being pregnant, the expectation of a newborn. Moments like when I unpacked all her tiny clothes into drawers, when I packed my hospital bag, when I set up her bassinet. But more often than those moments, I feel an uncomfortable numbness and a feeling of being unsettled.

Everything around me reflects that unsettled feeling; I don't have a parish to call home, and my spiritual life is not what I want it to be right now. I think of all the things that are unsettled, this is the one aspect that really moves everything askew. I could be an absolute mess, but if I had a parish I loved I would feel just fine.

Really, my intellect knows that Christ is in every parish I visit, in everyone I consider in this discernment process. And I know it will take time to find a place to call home. And it is in this chaotic feeling that Christ is calling me, once more, to look up. Look at Him. All that seems unsettled floats calmly to the ground in His Light. As when the sun comes through an open window and makes visible those tiny particles which float in the air, Christ illuminates all that I worry about, and makes it seem so infinitesimal.

So it is with this hope of Christ's peace that I reach out to you, and ask for your personal intentions, that I might make those the focus of these last few precious weeks, and of the labor I will soon face. Please, make me aware of them, whether by leaving them in the comments or by emailing me your intentions at kantnerk (at) gmail (dot) com. I will add them to my list of intentions and take them with me.