Yesterday was the 14th birthday of my second-born—my intense, sensitive, funny, wildly dramatic, musical son Ian.
In celebration of the day, I finally wrote his birth story, and updated the links on my birth page accordingly. Poor kid—I’m not sure why, but I’d never taken the time to write his out! It was my first induced labor, a transfer of care, from home birth to hospital, a month away from my due date, because of gestational diabetes.
I think I was inspired in part by the events of Friday morning. After my declaration of Thursday evening (or rather the wee hours of Friday morning), my phone rang just before 6 AM—my midwife friend, asking me if I wanted to attend a birth with her. Still groggy from only 3 hours of sleep, I said no, thinking that I needed to be at Bible study at 10 (my turn to bring snacks) and of all the canning that awaited me (47 more quarts of green beans over the last day or two). But after I hung up, I lay there wide awake, realizing how flimsy those reasons were. In a few minutes, I called her back and told her I’d changed my mind.
She told me ahead of time that the couple is Byzantine Catholic, expecting their 8th baby. (Elliot, if you’re reading, I laughed at your comment about Feminary because, hey, at one time that would have been quite the stretch for this Baptist-raised girl—but as I told my mom recently, if she’d wanted me to stay fundamentalist, she should have never let me read C.S. Lewis in high school.) They’re very neat people, and despite the denominational differences, I felt an immediate connection. In fact, the dad kept talking theology and church history with me instead of paying attention to his wife during contractions. I swear I did as little encouraging or responding as possible, but it’s probably no wonder her labor stalled out and by 10 she was sending us home. (As I asked someone later, do I just exude this aura that says, “deep thinker, engage me in discussion”??? Sheesh! I was just there as a midwife’s assistant.)
Though disappointed that there wouldn’t be a birth, I saw that I had time to make Bible study after all … and Beth Moore was in usual fine form, this time on the section dealing with Joseph being raised to the position of second in command in Egypt. Among other things, I received reassurance that IF the Lord sends me into the ABA side with my writing, I need not fear either my own inadequacy or the reception of my work—and that this time of waiting, again, is also preparation for what He has for me. In fact, I’d been doing so much thinking about how the Church gets inbred, especially when it comes to the arts, that I wonder whether this wasn’t my confirmation that I’m supposed to turn my energies that direction. After all, Beth said, “God is too wise to place His brightest lights only where light is already shining.”
Tomorrow—more sweet pickle relish to put up, and the third big wave of green beans. My consolation is another nugget from Friday’s session with Beth Moore: “If we are not presently accomplishing more than we humanly can, we are not walking in the Spirit.” I know that doesn’t seem to jive well with the “non-performance” stuff I’ve been reading recently, but I understand her point—and I have to say, despite the exhaustion, I can feel the Spirit sustaining me these last weeks, helping me either to finish what’s on the day’s plate, or showing me what I can shovel off on the next day (or into oblivion). It’s a good way to live. I couldn’t imagine facing the stress of these days without it.