From the Publisher
a Little Time Just for Mom!
Every mom craves just a bit of time for herself in between the feedings, burpings, diaper changes, and quick naps. She can probably use some time to reflect on God and to recharge her spiritual batteries too.
Mommy Time combines devotions about Mom’s new favorite subjectbabywith spiritual truths to remind her that God is ultimately in control.
Sarah Arthur writes from her own experiences as a mom. In the midst of her many duties, she helps you uncover new and refreshing lessons from God.
Catch a little mommy time today . . . and recharge.
Read an Excerpt
90 Devotions for New Moms
By SARAH ARTHUR
Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Copyright © 2013 Sarah Arthur
All right reserved.
Chapter One Into My Arms
* * *
I was thrust into your arms at my birth. You have been my God from the moment I was born.
WELL, HE'S HERE. Our son has arrived. We didn't know he would be a he until my husband peered over the curtain of my unplanned C-section, paused for a moment, and then said hoarsely, "It's a boy?" (In the mess of emotions and bodily ick, he wasn't sure.) I was mostly delirious, so all I remember is a red, gooey, unhappy creature held out for me to see and my husband vanishing to hover over our new son while the baby was weighed and cleaned up. An angry squawk came from that directionour son's first cry.
"It's okay, sweetheart," I croaked, even though I myself was totally unhinged.
Not a very illustrious beginning. But he's here. That's all we care about.
I won't go into the details of labor right now: everyone has their awful or amazing story. (Just hope my thirty-plus hours never happen to you.) We women enter the Labor Zone, aware of nothing but our bodies and the occasional annoyance ("What's that beeping? I don't care if it's someone's life support: turn it off!"). Time and other details seem to vanish into the haze of pain. Decisions are made, familiar and unfamiliar faces come and go, our bodies perform astonishing feats that we have not invented. The fleeting thought crosses our minds that we will never be normal again. And yet somehow none of it matters. Only the baby matters.
And now he's here. Pink and clean, wrapped in a blanket and sporting a striped hat that makes him look like a gnome. He blinks with unfocused eyes at the lights, the monitors, the figures coming and going, my looming face. All his movements are in slow motion, like he has found himself in a strange dream. Eventually the excitement wears off, we attempt a feeding, and then he sleeps, nestled against my neck, skin on skin.
After all this waiting, he has made his grand entrance, and I finally get to hold him in my arms. I get to inspect his comical face, his fringe of reddish hair (which looks like neither of his parents'), his little limbs and digits. Not many hours ago all this was inside of me. Totally surreal.
On his ankle he wears a tiny plastic band bearing our name, claiming him as ours, belonging to us. And yet, everything I know about my Christian faith tells me that this child is not really mine. As the Bible says in Psalm 22:10, the arms that really hold my childthe arms into which my child has been so unceremoniously shovedare not mine, but God's. The one who created my son, the one who calls him into a life of faith, the one who gave up his own Son, Jesusthat's the one who truly holds him now.
Which is a good thing, because at present all I want to do is sleep.
Excerpted from Mommy Time by SARAH ARTHUR Copyright © 2013 by Sarah Arthur. Excerpted by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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