I have to admit, keeping these posts coming every day for the past few months has been an undertaking this go around. It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed writing them (and certainly not that I won’t enjoy having them for our sweet honeybee), but more that I’m more taxed at the end of most days, and there’s more needed from me in all directions before I can sit down to record thoughts at the end of it all. That said, I’m sitting here tonight and recognizing again that this truly is part of my process when pregnant–the chance to write down ideas and thoughts and leave them somewhere to land is probably as cathartic as it is routine. Maybe this is one of the best areas of growth for me in pregnancy each time, just making a point to stop and record the season and the emotions and the moments I’ll be glad I didn’t just forget.

Today in church I was soaking in the feeling I have every weekend sitting or standing there–the way this little one moves around in my belly as the music plays, as we sing, as we listen to the week’s teaching. There’s little else in pregnancy that fills me up as much as those sacred moments, and I can remember them clearly from being pregnant with each baby. With H, Christmastime was so meaningful as I thought so often about Mary being with child and getting to experience that for the first time myself. I was always drawn in so deeply in church then, just as I am now, while carrying this babe. With all of our babies, times of worship have felt so rich; I can’t help but be overwhelmed by the gift of another baby growing in my belly each time. All of the words to songs stand out differently, just as they do in seasons of heartache or difficulty. To feel the depth of emotion in either direction has drawn me closer to God time and again.

As I was sitting in the pew this morning, I felt prompted to reflect on the fullness of that feeling I have with our kiddos around me and a baby tucked inside. It was another grace-filled moment of God reminding me to savor the space He held for me right then and there. Sure, there are a few more weeks to go on the calendar countdown to baby, but before I know it, we’ll hopefully file into the pew each Sunday with a baby carrier in tow. That will be a different sweetness, for sure, but it won’t be the same as the miracle of Creation happening inside of me right now. I plan to savor and embrace the coming season, too, and yet God’s nudging today was timely in recognizing that this day, right now, is something we don’t get back. It’s the only one like it. And I can see that and make the most of it, or I can squelch it and miss the blessing of it altogether. In church today, I was so thankful that God offered me the choice to soak it all in.

Today’s message was on one of my very chapters of the Bible, Psalm 91. I have read it time and time again over the years in moments of fear, worry or doubt. It’s a beautiful passage for so many reasons, and I loved the visual image repeated over and over today of God sheltering us under his wings. It’s just one of the most tangible verses in scripture to me. I love birds, and when I think about a mama bird sheltering her babies, or I think about how I feel about mothering our own children, that image is so clear and palpable to me. To be hidden in the shelter of God’s wings…that is a security that nothing else in this world can promise or provide. As we near another opportunity to welcome life into this world, the implications of that process are not lost on me at all. This ever-growing baby is going to have to go from inside to outside, and I’ll need to be a key player in making that happen. To know what I know about birth and how this process has gone for me in the past is very helpful, but it also raises extra questions about the unknowns that can come with any labor and delivery. I’m still getting my mind around what that might look like, with so many differences in our life and family and location than we’ve had in births past, not to mention all that’s different in a hospital setting now after a year+ of so many health variables in the world.

I can’t possibly know the unknowns, so I have to focus on what I do know and pray about all the rest. The most comforting known of them all is that nothing is unknown or will be a surprise to God. He has every detail written already, and He also has me–has us, under the shelter of His wings. If He didn’t, I wouldn’t feel the nudges that I do to savor a particular moment, to remember an interaction, to soak up what’s right in front of me. In His goodness, He is in the details, even as I sit down to write each night and often come to the table with little in mind of what I might say. I think it’s ok to say that God is happy to be writing the story, and I think it’s part of this journey for me to trust Him ever night that the right reflection will be there. I can’t take any credit for that; only God. In these days and weeks (and probably months) ahead, I’ll surrender more than I used to think necessary or possible, and I don’t doubt it will be for my good. God is in the details of this process and my processing, and it’s with His help that I can lay things down and trust–rest, even–under His shelter and care.

MM