In two days, we will be going to the hospital to be induced with our third child.
In two days, little sister will begin making her entrance into this world. A world that shouts his majesty from the mountaintops, and whispers His glory through the cracks.
In two days, my pregnancy with this thriving, wiggling, chubby-cheeked little girl will be replaced with a crying, sleepy-eyed, trusting infant in my arms.
This pregnancy has been a screaming-from-the-rooftops testimony of the love, peace, and power of our Abba Father.
He has gently, but firmly held my hand with each step. He has surrounded me with a host of His children. Children that are filled with His Spirit, and love, and unflinching dedication. My name, my husband’s name, and my children’s names have been laid at the feet of our Lord by souls across the country.
Until recently, I have trusted, nearly effortlessly, because as I walked out towards Jesus on these unknown waters, the waves gently and almost kindly lapped around my feet.
In two days, we will be going to the hospital to meet our third child.
In the past month, my heart and mind have begun to register the reality and weight of this truth. The waves have grown and the fear has mounted, as I work to balance the terror alongside growing joy and excitement. My eyes keep flickering away from Jesus. My eyes keep darting towards to rolling waves and my unsteady feet.
Anxiety and panic have inched their way in, and honestly –
I’m just scared.
My obsessive compulsive brain registers this fear and morphs it into intrusive, unrelenting, unreasonable, and absurd fears. I keep looking at these fears. Meditating on the “what-if” scenario. Panicking over panic.
Truthfully, most moments I’m looking directly down at stormy waters. I find my heart begin to trust – not only in the senseless, constant fears – but simply in the fact that these waves exist, and navigating through the waters will be full of hazards, panic, and disorder. And I’m scared. I’m scared about everything. EVERYTHING.
And then, for a moment, I look up.
Jesus is still there. Still reaching out with a soft reassuring smile and a gentle, but firm hand.
“He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.”
“The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.”
“But Jesus immediately said to them: “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.”
“Lord, if it’s you,” Peter replied, “tell me to come to you on the water.”
“Come,” he said.
Then Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!”
Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?”
And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”
“You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.”
1 John 4:4
“Moses answered the people, “Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” “
“You need only be still”. Fix my eyes Jesus. Set my eyes. Make me to stare deeply into your eyes and see. May I be soul-assured of just how deep the Father’s love for us. Make me to trust “without borders”. Gift me an even greater trust in your divine, undeniable might. May the whispers of your love drown out the deafening roar of the thundering waves.
In two days, I will be literal inches and moments away from meeting our daughter.
I love her with such a fierce, protective, all encompassing love that any threat – no matter how minute or unrealistic – causes me to instinctively and completely dive headlong into any possible answer or solution to keep her safe, sheltered, and secure.
HOW MUCH MORE Abba Father do you love me – your daughter? My love is imperfect and partial. Your love is perfect, complete, and fathomless. You love me more deeply than I have ever loved Mary, Keller, or baby sister. This is more than I can reach my mind around. You love me bigger, more fiercely, and more perfectly than the most powerful love I have ever known.
I am your child and you are begging me, “Peace, be still.”
You will carry me.
You won’t stop now.
In two days, we will step into a hospital, preparing our hearts, minds, and bodies to meet our little girl.
She will come into this world, and I will scoop our daughter tightly into my arms, with tears of joy and gratitude in my eyes, and whisper, “I will never stop loving you. I will never stop protecting you. I will give all of myself for all of you.”
Abba will also scoop me up into His tender and magnificent arms and whisper, “I will never stop loving you. I will never stop protecting you. I have given all of myself for all of you.”