any day now.

We're just a few days away from Labor Day. Both the federal holiday and the day I (hopefully) go into labor. We're four days shy of the actually due date (and if you go by our first ultrasound, the more "accurate" due date could be tomorrow).

This is definitely exciting and scary all at the same time! It's intimidating, to say the least, to think of being responsible for the survival of a tiny human in the next few days (or hours...or weeks...). To have a person that totally dependent on you. To feel like I have so little idea of what I'm doing. 

It also been a difficult final (well, I hope it's the final) week or so. Over the last week, I've started to experience what I'm fairly sure is something called "prodromal labor" (thank you, Google). Basically, it's somewhere between Braxton Hicks contractions (which are usually not painful) and the real deal, and it could last hours, days, or weeks (yes, weeks). "Prodromal" comes from a Greek word meaning "precursor," and it essentially involves uncomfortable-to-downright-painful contractions (see, I'm having on right now...) that usually occur at night and can even be time-able. However, they don't build in intensity and eventually fizzle out (only to start again a few hours later/later that night). They can sometimes be indicative that they baby is not in the best position and is trying to get there, and mine have come with almost constant back pain. I slept better last night and this morning I felt fine, but this on-again-off-again "practice labor" is uncomfortable to say the least, and at this point it's starting to wear me down. I've read a couple of places that women who experience this often have shorter labors since their bodies have done all that prep work, so I'm really hoping that that's the case at least!

In the midst of the excitement ("Our baby is almost here!!") and the fear ("Oh my gosh, our baby is almost here...") and the pain ("How long is it going to take for our baby to actually get here??) I've been thinking a lot of how this season of anticipation reminds me of how I'm longing for Christ's return (and makes me long for it even more). 

Not to be all "doom and gloom," but I truly believe we are living in the last days (though how many last days there are left, no one knows). Jesus's words in Matthew 24 paint a pretty clear picture:

3 As he sat on the Mount of Olives, the disciples came to him privately, saying, “Tell us, when will these things be, and what will be the sign of your coming and of the end of the age?” 4 And Jesus answered them, “See that no one leads you astray. 5 For many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am the Christ,’ and they will lead many astray. 6 And you will hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not alarmed, for this must take place, but the end is not yet. 7 For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places. 8 All these are but the beginning of the birth pains.

9 “Then they will deliver you up to tribulation and put you to death, and you will be hated by all nations for my name’s sake. 10 And then many will fall away and betray one another and hate one another. 11 And many false prophets will arise and lead many astray. 12 And because lawlessness will be increased, the love of many will grow cold.13 But the one who endures to the end will be saved. 14 And this gospel of the kingdom will be proclaimed throughout the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come.

Sound familiar? Does this seem like life as we know it to anyone else these days? Wars (and rumors of wars). Division. Nation rising against nation. Natural disasters. Hatred. Love growing cold. I'm sure many examples from current events come to mind for each of these. 

And kind of like the "prodromal labor" I've been experiencing the past several days, these are just the beginnings of the birth pains that will usher in the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth. 

32 “From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as its branch becomes tender and puts outits leaves, you know that summer is near. 33 So also, when you see all these things, you know that he is near, at the very gates. 34 Truly, I say to you, this generation will not pass away until all these things take place. 35 Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.

36 “But concerning that day and hour no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only. 37 For as were the days of Noah, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. 38 For as in those days before the flood they were eating and drinking, marrying and giving in marriage, until the day when Noah entered the ark,39 and they were unaware until the flood came and swept them all away, so will be the coming of the Son of Man. 40 Then two men will be in the field; one will be taken and one left. 41 Two women will be grinding at the mill; one will be taken and one left.42 Therefore, stay awake, for you do not know on what day your Lord is coming. 43 But know this, that if the master of the house had known in what part of the night the thief was coming, he would have stayed awake and would not have let his house be broken into.44 Therefore you also must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour you do not expect.

We have no way of knowing exactly when he's coming back, just like I have no way on knowing exactly when this baby will finally start making his journey out of me (unless we end up having to schedule an induction, which we would prefer not to). 

And I cannot make it happen at any particular time or in any particular way (and trust me, I've tried just about every "natural induction" technique in the book--at least the ones that are considered safe). I wish I could take matters into my own hands and decide the day and the hour (again, the analogy breaks down if there's a medical induction/scheduled C-section), but I have to wait...being ready at any time with my hospital bag packed, the car seat installed, and the nursery ready for his arrival (all the while on high alert for any signs that labor could be starting). 

Do we watchfully wait for Christ's return that way? With readiness, excitement, anticipation, trepidation, and longing? Or do we go about our lives, too easily satisfied (or distracted?) by this world--both its pleasures and its pain. As C.S. Lewis said in The Problem of Pain:

“The settled happiness and security which we all desire, God withholds from us by the very nature of the world: but joy, pleasure, and merriment, He has scattered broadcast. We are never safe, but we have plenty of fun, and some ecstasy. It is not hard to see why. The security we crave would teach us to rest our hearts in this world and oppose an obstacle to our return to God: a few moments of happy love, a landscape, a symphony, a merry meeting with out friends, a bathe or a football match, have no such tendency. Our Father refreshes us on the journey with some pleasant inns, but will not encourage us to mistake them for home.”

Maybe all these "birth pains" lately are meant to keep us from getting too comfortable in our "pleasant inns." If I weren't feeling the way I am now physically, I wouldn't be so ready to get this baby out of my body and into my arms. Does our suffering drive us to long for Lord's coming and hasten that day? The day described in Revelation 21:

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. 2 And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. 3 And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, andGod himself will be with them as their God. 4 He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.”

Do we really long for such a day? Do we live in light of it? Like we think it's really coming soon? 

I'm fairly certain I quoted Romans 8 a couple of posts ago, but it's definitely relevant here too:

8 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.22 For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. 23 And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

I have yet to see my son face to face. I've seen him in an ultrasound 20 weeks ago and I see his form in my growing belly. But I know he's in there (miraculously!) and that he eventually has to come out (Praise God, it is physically impossible to stay pregnant forever). 

I haven't seen God face to face either. But there is evidence of him all around. I've seen him at work in this world and in my own life. I feel his presence. He, as the Holy Spirit, lives and moves in and through me. 

And just as I can't stay pregnant forever, he has promised that this world won't stay broken forever. One day Heaven will come down and Christ's Kingdom will be established fully on the earth. One day there will be no more birth pains (or COVID or cancer or corruption). One day it will all be restored and made perfect and new. 

And on that day, will you be ready? Will you have your proverbial hospital bag packed? Will Jesus know you as his own?

Any day now.

Come, Lord Jesus (and come on, Liam!!).

looking back and looking forward.

It's been a while since I've written anything about Kyra. 

(For those of you who don't know, Kyra was my supervisor's wife while I lived in Rome for two years who died in a car accident a few months before I returned to the States. It feels like such a big part of my story that it's a little crazy to me that many people I've only met in the last few years don't know about that chapter at all. But if you want to read more about her, look back at posts around August 2015 and the following year.)

I've been thinking about her more recently than I have in a while. Partly because I finally finished watching every episode of "Call the Midwife" that is currently on Netflix (It was her favorite show...the one we would get together and watch while sipping tea from her Polish Pottery mugs and that we [but mostly she] all were excited to watch the next season of when she and her family returned from the U.S. for the summer, which is where/when she passed away. I mostly just liked it because she liked it so much then, but now, during pregnancy, it's been even more meaningful and emotional). It's also partly because some friends from Rome recently brought back a painting I'd done there of said Polish Pottery mugs (which I had almost forgotten about after six years and seems funny to see again now on a daily basis). 

This morning--I'm not sure why--I spent some time scrolling through her Instagram (which I'm so glad still exists and probably always will, since it was probably connected to her phone). She only had it for about a year (one of the years I was there), so it all just looks so familiar and nostalgic and real. Nothing was posed or filtered. She posted about things like her kitchen sink and the fact that we should all cherish dishwashers if we have them, her favorite seat on the bus, the graffiti-peppered playground near their apartment, her daughters' crazy bedhead and silly faces, and all the charming but dysfunctional things about Rome (like the fact that their elevator broke all the time, Reid's bike kept getting stolen, and everything closed due to things like heavy rain). 

Kyra only ever had 90 followers. And she'll only ever have 90 followers, since I'm pretty sure her Instagram account was private. She wasn't famous or particularly exceptional in any of the ways our culture may deem someone noteworthy. But she will always be one of the most special and influential people I've ever met. 

The main reason I've been thinking about her more lately is because of how much I wish I could talk to her. I so desperately wish I could ask her advice about so many things. About pregnancy and motherhood. About moving our family overseas and seeking to serve the Lord in that context. She taught me so much about both...before I even knew for sure whether or not my story would include either. 

And now, at the brink of bringing a baby into this world (something that intimidates me more than maybe anything every has) and as we look ahead to (Lord willing) moving overseas soon afterward, I find myself thinking back on the many things I learned from her. 

She was such a great mom. She loved her little girls in a way that was fierce and fun and free of frustration or ever complaining about her kids. 

She was also one of the most hospitable people I've ever known. And it wasn't the showy, Pinterest-worthy brand of hospitality. It was a come-as-you-are, we're-scrounging-for-dinner-but-we-have-plenty-to-share, my-house-is-a-mess, welcome-to-our-reality type of hospitality. She didn't have to welcome two single girls living there for two years into her family. But she did. She didn't have to regularly have people over for their birthdays or holidays or just for no special reason at all. But she did. That was one of the main ways she loved people and shared Christ's love with them...by welcoming them into her home. 

She was living proof that hospitality and evangelism go hand in hand, which is the theme of books like Rosaria Butterfield's The Gospel Comes with a House Key. Glenn and I have also recently been reading Elliot Clark's Evangelism as Exiles, and he has a chapter about how essential hospitality is in pointing people to Christ:

People who would never cross the threshold of a church will still walk through your front door. People who are indifferent to religion or disinclined to Christianity will still appreciate a friendly dinner invitation. They’ll gladly accept a free meal and, in the process, may just listen to you rejoice in free forgiveness.

In his Gospel account, Matthew records twice in short succession that Jesus reclined at table with sinners—this after promising that many would join at his table in the kingdom of heaven (Matt. 9:10; 8:11). It’s as if Matthew understood the two actions to be connected. One way sinners enter the kingdom is by first entering our kitchen. Some will only come to the table of the Lord after first coming to our dinner table.

A little further on in the same chapter, he goes on to say:

We might show generous hospitality, but only to people like us—never to those of a different race or background, a different belief or persuasion, or a different social class. We welcome others into our home, but generally those who don’t even need it. Our hospitality is only lateral and transactional. We host peers in a system that expects reciprocity, not one that displays free grace.

But real hospitality...doesn’t require limitless resources or a luxury kitchen with an open floor plan. The only requirement of hospitality is love. Love that serves others rather than serving ourselves. Love that seeks to use our home and our resources, like Matthew, to introduce people to Jesus. But sadly what we often label as hospitality is merely entertaining—it’s just more of that old Southern hospitality, dignified and genteel, but knowing nothing of sacrifice or incongruity.

Kyra's hospitality was not "lateral or transactional." Her small Roman apartment certainly didn't have a "luxury kitchen with an open floor plan." She just reached out and invited in. She just loved. 

I know there is one family who is now part of the family of God because of her hospitality and love. Not long after she died, a friend in Italy she had shared with and prayed for for years became a believer, and now she and her husband and son have been baptized and are part of a new church plant in their (and our old) neighborhood in Rome.

"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." -John 12:24

So why did Kyra live this way? Why did her husband and daughters (and now, years later, his new wife and their son) stay in Rome? Why are Glenn and I planning to move overseas with a six-month-old (something plenty of people have thought us crazy for doing)?

Love. 

"We love because he first loved us" (1 John 4:19).

Hope.

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God’s power are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time. In this you rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ" (1 Peter 1:3-6).

We want people to know the love God has for them...this holy yet personal God who created them and died in their place so that they could have a relationship with him and be with him forever. We want people to know true hope...in a world of fleeting pleasures and constant changes that offers nothing of true, lasting hope. 

And we feel the urgency of doing that in a place that doesn't have a church on every street corner or where the majority of people either know or have at least heard of Christ's saving grace. As Scottish missionary, Ion Keith-Falconer, once said:

"I have but one candle of life to burn, and I would rather burn it out in a land filled with darkness than in a land flooded with light."

I hope I can burn out my life's candle like that. And I only hope I can be half the mother and minister of the gospel that Kyra was. Thank you, dear friend, for your example. 

maternity musings.

Guess I haven't written anything on here since September's waterfall incident.

Well. A LOT has happened since then.

In September, we had our belated wedding reception (we still don't know what to call it) following our 10-person COVID-restriction-compliant actual wedding in May. (Side note on that: From May to September, I honestly wondered if I'd always regret not being able to have a "real" wedding like so many others have had and will have. But after getting to experience the [albeit small-scale] party we had in September--which, while wonderful, came with the stress of making sure everything ran smoothly and everyone was happy and taken care of--I am even more thankful for the sweet, simple, unique, stress-free, perfect-for-us wedding that God, in his wisdom, saw fit to give us...a day in which we got to focus on each other, be together and make preparations together all day, go get our marriage licensed signed in T-shirts and gym shorts, and just enjoy the perfect weather and the support of loved ones physically present and "present" via Facebook Live).

In December, we got to go on our belated honeymoon--seven months after our actual little mini-honeymoon in the mountains and in a totally different country than we originally planned. (Side note on that: Taking a "honeymoon" seven months into marriage was, I would dare to guess, even more fun than jumping on a plane after what probably felt like a marathon day before and dealing with the stressors than international travel can sometimes bring, all amidst the usual jitters of getting to know each other in a more intimate way and adjusting to marriage).

In January, we found out we'd had a little stowaway on our belated honeymoon. 

That's right: We are expecting a baby boy in September! :)

This journey of pregnancy so far has been challenging, emotional, and such beautiful evidence of God's faithfulness. There have been fear-filled tears and tears of joy. I've felt an even deeper love and gratitude for my husband. My heart has felt full to bursting when I've seen our little guy moving around during our ultrasound visits and, now, as I'm starting to feel his little flutters below my bellybutton. 

Given that this in my current (and completely new-to-me) reality, I've been thinking a lot (A LOT) about pregnancy and childbirth and parenthood and the grace of God. Here are some of the things I'm learning so far:

1. Moms (and moms-to-be) are my new heroes. 

I really don't think I gave any of this much thought before, but now whenever I see a pregnant woman (especially if she is simultaneously chasing around other littles), I see such a beautiful strength. I mean, seriously...Do you have any idea how hard it is growing a human for 40 weeks then pushing it out of your body and feeding it (while it's inside, with very little conscious effort, and then continuing to keep in alive while it's outside)??

Well let me just tell you: I don't experientially know a lot about the whole pushing-it-out process quite yet, but even pregnancy itself is NO JOKE. I felt pretty much perpetually carsick for the first couple of months and wanted little more than to stay in bed all day (which was impossible, what with working full time and all those trips to the bathroom and the necessity of eating SOMETHING what felt like constantly to keep said carsickness at bay). And did you know that allergies can be worse during pregnancy? And did you know that the pregnant body is pumping a full FOUR POUNDS of extra blood through it, which can lead to nosebleeds and low blood pressure/lightheadedness? And then there's tenderness in places that are pretty tender to begin with, not to mention round ligament pain (every heard of that?). Then there's the heartburn and indigestion and (pardon my honesty) gas that are characteristic of pregnancy, because there's just not enough room in there or energy for your digestive system to function quite as smoothly as it used to. And then, of course, there's learning to dress and balance and generally get used to this new body shape/size/weight you're sporting. 

Someone said to me recently that if pregnancy were a disease, it would be one of the worst because it effects every part (EVERY PART) of your body. 

I have, of course, heard from those moms who said they'd never felt better than when they were pregnant. More power to those ladies whose pregnancies were flawless and fun, but I'm betting that's more of the "mommy amnesia" that sets in afterwards than anything else (which is a blessing, of course, or most women would probably say, "Ehh...one's enough."). To the rest of you for whom human-growing has felt more like a trial than a joy, I salute you and I stand with you (even if it may take me a second or two longer to do so these days). And it really (usually) does get better in the second trimester. 

2. Children are a blessing from the Lord.

I'm going to be honest with you: If you had told me before marriage that I would be carrying a child within my first year of marriage, I probably would have laughed in your face and said, "Please, God, no." However, as he just keeps reminding me, God's ways are not always my ways but they are always higher and better (Isaiah 55:8-9). 

Over the summer, Glenn and I both felt the Spirit's urging to surrender the timing of starting a family over to him (as if it were not already in his control to begin with). We talked and prayed about it a lot ("What if we get pregnant right away? What if we can't get pregnant at all? Have we had enough time, just the two of us? What if, even by the slightest chance, birth control pills have prevented the implantation and growth of a fertilized egg already? Are we really ready to be parents?"). Though it didn't come without its fair share of trepidation, we choose to be obedient to what we felt the Lord was asking of us. And when we had that positive pregnancy test staring back at us a few months later, we felt even more sure that we'd heard him correctly. Not only that, but the timing was so sweet and God-ordained in that we found out we were pregnant about four days before my grandfather (William, better known as "Poppy") passed away, and it's even more special that the child we are expecting is a boy and we get to name him William (and call him "Liam"). 

Psalm 127 has been one I've thought about a lot in the past few months: 

Unless the Lord builds the house,
    those who build it labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
    the watchman stays awake in vain.
2 It is in vain that you rise up early
    and go late to rest,
eating the bread of anxious toil;
    for he gives to his beloved sleep.

3 Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,
    the fruit of the womb a reward.
4 Like arrows in the hand of a warrior
    are the children of one's youth.
5 Blessed is the man
    who fills his quiver with them!
He shall not be put to shame
    when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.

A few thoughts of this psalm: 

First of all, there's really been very little that I have consciously done or over which I have had control to create this tiny one and keep him alive. In fact, there's quite a bit I did wrong before I knew there was a baby in there, including eating sushi, soaking in a hot tub, and drinking on our honeymoon, and who even knows how many times I took ibuprofen before I knew he existed. It makes me even more thankful that "in HIS hand is the life of every creature and the breath of all mankind" (Job 12:10). 

And so, secondly, pregnancy and parenthood are (yet another) exercise in trusting the Lord. That's definitely something I am still learning daily, as I have worried about everything from miscarriage to birth defects to how having a baby will affect our marriage to the every-scary SIDS. So, I have a choice: I could "eat the bread of anxious toil" or I could lie down and rest, knowing God's got this and whatever happens will be for our ultimate good and for his ultimate glory (Romans 8:28).

Lastly, anyone else think we need to be a little more careful about how we talk about children? "Enjoy your life/freedom/sleep/fun while you can." It was basically the same way before we got married. That it was going to somehow be this miserable, limiting state of existence. Well, I know I'm only a year into this thing, but marriage is wonderful. Challenging sometimes? Sure. It's two imperfect people trying to communicate and make decisions and forgive and actively love. But it's the most beautiful, joyful thing I've experience in my life so far, and I love having a lover, ministry partner, and best friend to do life with! So I have to believe that if God's Word says that children are a "heritage" (or, in some translations, "gift") from the Lord, we should see them as such and not as yet another ball and chain.

Don't get me wrong: I did my fair share of "grieving" (especially during the first trimester, when I felt awful)..."Why do people to this? Do I even want this? Is this worth it? Will I ever have fun again? I'm way too selfish for this!!!" But someone told me recently that having children just means you have one arm full. I'm choosing to look at it that way. Yes, life will be different. There will be "limitations." But I hope we have still serve and live and love and do things. One of us will just have a kid strapped to our chest. And I hear the snuggles and giggles and general baby love are pretty great as well.

3. Pregnancy and birth reflect the Christian life and yearning for the new creation.

As we already discussed, pregnancy and birth are no picnic. There's struggle and exhaustion and pain. You have to die to self to offer life to another as the baby growing inside takes all it's nourishment from your body and all your body's strength to bring it into this world. It's a kind of suffering. But it is pain intermingled with joy: "When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world" (John 16:21).

And, as Gloria Furman says in her book, Labor with Hope, we need to "take our eyes off of ourselves and look through the shadows to the substance, who is Christ. Brith is not about us, but about God."

In essense, we are mirroring this reality described in Romans 8:

18 For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. 19 For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. 20 For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope 21 that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God.22 For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. 23 And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. 24 For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, wewait for it with patience.

As Furman goes on to say, "A mother in the throes of labor helps us understand that our suffering in this life is far outweighed by the joy we will experience in the resurrection. Everything in the realm of the 'seen'--the sweat, tears, uncertainty, anticipation, pain, groaning--gives way to the yet 'unseen'--the profound relief and joy you feel when everyone hears the sound of a wailing baby. Whether or not she is aware of it, a mom in labor is a picture of eschatological hope. She perseveres through contraction after contraction with endurance because of what happens after labor is over: delivery." 

That is our hope as believers: a day with no more tears or pain or suffering or waiting or death (Revelation 21:4). To borrow and paraphrase a quote from Tolkien, it'll be a day when all sad things come untrue. 

I'll end with one last quote from Labor with Hope: "All our groaning will end when we finally see what we've been hoping for, as the consummation of God's promised restoration bursts forth in full. Until that day we tremble in hopeful anticipation."

I hope you know the hope she's talking about and, in childbearing and life in general, you are able to labor with hope and joyful expectation.