Femur Bones

I am sitting down for my morning quiet time, but can’t stop staring at the little black and white ultrasound from our anatomy scan on Monday. Baby girl is stretched out and squished in, with her legs stretched over her body and feet nearly in her mouth. Her little femur bone on display, clear as day. I’ve never even thought of a femur bone before, but this little femur has me completely enamored.

I sat in the waiting room with Noah after the ultrasound, with the photos in hand. I told him about how that little perfect femur really made it hit me — all the work my body has actually been doing. I mean… somehow I made a freaking femur. I told Noah, “Not to be this girl… but… I really just do not know how people do not believe in God and stare at photos of femurs like this.”

Because the truth is, I know there is no way I made a femur. I learned years ago that the truest, most beautiful things in my life, although on the surface may appear to, rarely happen because of me, my skill, my smarts, or MY anything. The reality is: I totally don’t have this. Not in a self-loathing way — it’s just true. All of my best work, the most beautiful things, always happen in tandem with Love himself, never apart from it.

So if you find yourself at the end of yourself today, well, consider yourself lucky. Some of us get there quicker and easier than others. But if you’re anything like me, getting to that place, came with a great deal of pain, ended with a great deal of humility, and left me knowing this:

Powerless in the presence of God is the most powerful place I can be.

Separate from Love, my attempts at goodness and perfection and keeping up are cute at best. But together… well, we can make a freaking femur.