In life there are many things that we see, want, do, try, and pray for. I know that I am one of those people who make lists and those lists guide my daily life as I work to coordinate, develop and achieve that which I’ve planned for myself and those things which have been assigned to me. In addition to my task-oriented lists, are wishlists. These wishlists hold my dreams, the things I am manifesting via prayer and focus and energy and effort.
The last few years have been filled with lists. In 2018 I completed doctoral study and got married. I planned the year from start to finish. For graduation, the wedding of my dreams, travel, professional development, and job searching across the world. I finished my PhD, married the man I love, traveled to New Orleans, Cabo, Jamaica and landed a full-time job that aligned with my purpose and professional aspirations.
In 2019 I started lists that were more so professional than personal. I focused on advancing my career, publishing my writings and creating and developing content that would help me through my journey. Just when I thought I was progressing and elevating, life knocked me down and loss struck me in a way I had never imagined. In addition to my own personal struggles, the world experienced a pandemic and people everywhere collectively navigated loss, social distancing, the scarcity of food, tissue, and other essentials.
As 2020 approached, I felt an immense sense of gratitude for all that was happening around me. The pandemic offered me the chance to slow down and re-evaluate my life, my needs, my wants, and my priorities. In doing so, I recognized I was functioning from a space of lack and exhaustion. I had to work hard to pivot into a space of abundance. This required me to face the harsh reality that I hadn’t properly grieved loss. I had to stare pain in the face and gently peel back layers of myself. It was uncomfortable, it was challenging and it was daunting. Considering it now, I realize it to be the most beautiful transformation I ever experienced. There were times in the midst of it all that I didn’t think I could manage it all and that it wasn’t worth it. I am glad that I was wrong. As I worked to break down the burdens and give birth to a new and improved version of myself, I found myself preparing to naturally give birth too. My second son, Myles Monroe, joined our family in November.
I don’t think I ever felt as whole and as happy as I did while carrying Myles. I don’t think I ever felt fully healed and aligned with what God wanted for me. I was mentally and emotionally floating. The world was in a dark hour, but all I could see was light. I was carrying joy, personified.
The year that followed this beautiful experience was one filled with so many blessings. I stepped into a new role professionally that has allowed me to work from home providing me with a professional and personal balance I used to dream of. I learned so much about myself and about boundaries and about prioritizing. I was stretched in ways that I thought would break me, but ultimately 2021 taught me how to choose myself–above everything and everyone else. It was a lesson I needed to learn and one that empowered me to lean into all that 2022 had to offer me.
It shouldn’t have come as a surprise to me that when I felt compelled to shift again, it was in both the spiritual and natural realm. I was making plans to completely alter life as I knew it and God had a plan of his own. After 3 long months of varied emotions, an extended stay in Omaha, and so many other personal things to grapple with, I went to see my doctor for an annual check-up. She congratulated me on my pregnancy and I thought she was referring to the beloved child I birthed in 2020, Myles. I thanked her and talked about his growth and development. She looked at me, having picked up on my confusion and said, “Well, Mrs. Frost, get ready to do it all again. You’re pregnant now!” The timing, in my mind was as imperfect as possible, but God’s timing is always supreme.
In this current season of my life, I am learning to lead with and carry faith, in all that I do. While I am figuratively leaning into the discomfort, faith is my guide. While I am learning to lead in new ways and be flexible beyond my wildest dreams, faith is my security. While I am advancing and growing, Faith is on the inside of me advancing and growing too.
You see, faith isn’t just the complete confidence or trust in something or someone. Faith is my sweet, little, girl. In all of life’s highs and lows, faith has been my constant. Even before I knew her, I loved her. I longed for her. I excelled for her. In working to become a better woman, she was and has always been part of the motivation. The mere thought of the possibility of her has inspired me to do, learn, and become.
Faith is carried in a ll that I do and all that I am. God designs us to do and be who he has need of, but it is on us to walk in what he has purposed for us. In carrying faith, I trust that I am walking in what he has purposed for me. Faith is in my dreams, in my goals, in my energy. Faith is my flashlight, my comfort, my refuge. Faith is my foundation, my encouragement, my calm. Faith is the sweet little girl I carried for 9 months, 22 days and 6 hours. Upon entering this world she let out the most beautiful cry I had ever heard, strong and sweet and pure. The doctors handed her to me and she looked at me like she knew me. Her pretty, full, bright, brown eyes, pierced my soul. She saw me for everything I was and any and every doubt I ever had about mothering her, vanished. Faith is my confidence, personified. She is the strongest, most beautiful parts of me. She is so much a part of every dream I have ever had.
In the days following her birth, family and friends sent congratulatory wishes and many of them said, “I’m so glad you got your girl.” As if I had vocalized my longing for a daughter. The petition I posed to God for her, was a private one. I kept thinking to myself, Why does everyone keep saying that? If I’m being completely honest, I was annoyed by their assumption that I wanted a daughter, but the truth in all of this is that I did. Even when I was afraid to admit it. I knew that carrying Faith, meant I had to be woman enough to teach her and in teaching her, woman enough to admit my own faults, and in admitting my own faults, woman enough to guide her differently, and to guide her differently, I had to be different. This shift calls me to be the greatest version of myself. The most honest, transparent, God-fearing, soft, strong, purposeful, version of myself. Her arrival instantaneously elevated my desire to be better. She is everything I have ever wanted. She is everything God says she is. Carrying her has been my life’s greatest honor.
I realize now, holding her and looking into her almond shaped, brown, eyes, that she is who I’ve been waiting for. In all that I’ve accomplished, in all that I’ve overcome, in all the generational curses I’ve broken, she is the clarity I’ve searched for. She is a reflection of God’s promise to me. As I enter this Mother’s Day season, gratitude fills my heart and tears fill my eyes. I am so grateful to God and Heaven for sending me a gift such as this. All of my children have impacted my life differently. Each of them have provided a new perception of God’s assigned purpose. I hold so much love and so much thanks for each of them, individually and collectively. Still, there was something divine about the time in which I carried Faith. The legacy and the light is here & I am so proud to have been the vessel God ordained her to pass through.
To all the mamas across the world, those who are carrying their children, raising their children, mourning their children, missing their children, or otherwise, I send you my sincerest wishes for a day that is filled with the sweetest of memories. May you all find the space to be whoever and whatever this season calls you to be. May you find light, love, acceptance, peace and joy. Might you remember to carry faith in all things.