How Do You Know God is Real?

Because I just swirled frothy creamer into liquid gold, and now I’m going to gulp it down / Because the crickets are singing in the dark before the dawn, and when the sun peeks over the mountain the sparrows will do the same / Because when I breathe in misty October mornings, hope and strength fizz and bubble in my veins 

Because I met my husband in South Africa, when we lived ten minutes apart in California / Because he hears my ideas and dreams and without fail says, “Yes! Do that!” “Yes! Go there!” “Yes! Be that girl!” / Because each of our tendencies is to be right, but there’s a greater force that slows that dangerous burn 

Because I once had a dream of a little girl with straight, dark bangs, and now her giggles bounce off the white brick walls of our kitchen / Because we don’t have the same eyes, or nose, or toes, but my love for her is an ocean / Because I thought one thing, one plan, one way but He was writing a richer and grander story

Because sometimes I let my anger loose like a wild boar, and when I apologize and ask for forgiveness, she’s yet to say “no” / Because sometimes I rush and hurry our hearts too furiously, and a gentle voice or simply the wind says “slow down” / Because sometimes I nitpick and nag, and I get to start fresh just by taking a breath 

Because when the words flow as I (a tad too aggressively) tap the keyboard, satisfaction puffs its chest in my soul / Because when I watch my daughter build, and connect, and create, I see the intricacies and beauty of her brain / Because embryos grow up to be artists, and teachers, and mothers and fathers

Because I got pregnant after ten years of trying when doctors said I couldn’t / Because my friend brought me a tray of tacos and a fuchsia bougainvillea when we lost the baby / Because I couldn’t fathom praying, yet His grace flooded our halls, filled our home, and eventually busted through the windows, drowning lies and proving love

Because the earth sits just close enough to the sun that we’re not scorched into flames or frozen into human Bomb Pops / Because when I gaze at a clear, black night sky, a spectacle of twinkly stars dances above / Because the tiniest wild flowers flaunt layers of detail and care  

Because I mess up every day, over and over again but can go to sleep free of guilt and shame / Because my striving, trying, and vying have nothing to do with my worth / Because I am only able to show kindness, gentleness, and patience because they’ve been lavished on me 

Because when I looked at my grandmother in the casket it was plain as day that her spirit had vanished and nothing but a body remained / Because why would eighty years be enough time to say “thank you” for the song birds, bougainvilleas, and silly giggles? / Because a book filled with history, and stories, and most of all love, tells me so
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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 “A Question.”

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Hi, I’m Becky!

I’m an Enneagram 1 and INFJ, if you’re into those things as much as I am. Oh, and I’m a writer and podcaster I write a lot about motherhood, infertility, adoption, the beautiful gifts God has shown me time and time again and the freedom we have in Jesus to come undone.

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