Tomorrow, God willing, our son Owen will be born.
Our house is a flurry of cleaning and packing. My stomach flips with pre-labor butterflies. But my heart feels compelled to worship God quickly and simply here… to acknowledge the lavish and undeserved gifts he is giving us through this child.
Advent began today — my favorite season of the year, when we remember that every ache and wait is ultimately a wait for God. He is our hope, even more than the “stuff” we hope for. Last year, Advent for me was a season of loss and mourning. I’d known hard waits before, like the Christmas we cried, wishing we cross the globe to adopt Amelia sooner. But last year, our wait wasn’t a hopeful one, like the wait for a child to join the family. Instead, it was a wait for my body to realize the pregnancy I carried was empty. From November 28 through December 14 last year, the best I could hope for was for my miscarriage to complete.
Tonight, just like this night last year, I pray for my womb to be emptied soon… only it’s a totally different prayer. It is a prayer for my child to be born! I am flattened to the ground with gratitude.
I go into this labor knowing I don’t deserve the goodness I’m receiving. In the past twelve months, I’ve watched dear friends face infertility and miscarriage. I’ve seen children wait for their parents to die — and what kind of a wait is that?
Don’t get me wrong — every hardship in my life has been the blessing of God. And I fully believe that my hurting friends are beloved in God’s eyes — that He is shaping them through trials because He adores them and plans far greater glories for them than ease. I pray my life preach God’s goodness even when — especially when — circumstances aren’t good.
But tonight, on the eve of what I expect to be a beautiful, life-changing day, I have to praise God.
No matter what, He is good. But tonight… tonight I can feel how unworthy I am of His lavish love.