Boats, Babies and Sparrows

I was worried plumb sick about her... it was my daughter, two weeks late with their baby boy. At night, I'd wake up in a sweat, having scary dreams and wanting to call her up and yell: "Get over to the hospital and get him out, now!" We knew he was big. The last ultrasound they had done was pinning him at over ten-and-a-half pounds. She wanted to have him natural, if possible. The specialist they sent her to was making noises about scheduling a caesarean at 39 weeks. She was told that the baby was "too big, had a big head and there was too much fluid." Sounded just like my pregnancy with her, some 30 years ago. Much testing ensued. Sometimes, and often, all this  technology just makes our lives miserable. Eventually, the word was that everything was leveling out and he appeared to be okay. As if that would change what she did. This baby was treasured and wanted, no matter what.

Finally, she surrendered to a light induction, where they tried to coax the baby out without bringing in the big guns. I was freaking out, because I know that the more intervention that occurs, often leads to bigger problems. As Friday morphed into Saturday, and she wasn't progressing much, the scared Yaya Bear began to puff up with worry. They were ratcheting up the pitocin (a drug which causes intense contractions). I know that worry is a sin, but apparently I'm an addict. Jesus take the wheel. Covid paranoia has made a mess out of our lives. We can't see our sick folks, bury our dead, sit with our Mamas or help our daughters birth their babies. My mother-in-law suffered and died away from us all for two months back last summer and we still suffer with the injustice of death without a chance to properly grieve our people. And now my baby girl was having her first baby, without me.

When I had my four babies, I had an assortment of family and loved ones that visited while I was laboring. One of our children was born at the same time a dear saint from our church was on her deathbed in the same hospital, one floor up. The church family was visiting her and then popping down to visit me. It was a precious mix of the bittersweet and the eternal. We had a party going on while I mustered through my contractions...for me, it was the best kind of distraction. Besides Ken, my parents, sister and mother-in-law were with me for the actual births. Mama and my sister mid-wifed me through our daughter's homecoming, everyone grabbing a leg or an arm to help me push that 11-pounder out. I remember looking up, after Liz was born, to see my mother-in-law and sister hugging and crying their eyes out. There is nothing in the world like the moment that a child breaks out of its cocoon and lets you know it's all going to be okay. 

Someone snuck me in to see Liz at the hospital on Saturday, while Ken whisked Marcus (her husband) off for wings and calming beverages at Jefferson's. I was told I had ten minutes to visit, which turned into an hour and a half. We cried, laughed, prayed. I told her to let go of anybody else's expectations, even her Mama's...to trust God, confer with her dear husband, and to do what she wanted. She suffered through several nice contractions and suddenly that boy flopped sideways. You could see his bowling-ball-sized head on one end and then his bum poking the other way. The nurse panicked and starting running around to see what could be done. Liz immediately stood up and said, "I've been laying around too long." She started marching around the room, swaying her hips like a salsa dancer, talking to that munchkin and telling him to turn back down. Of course, they kicked me out and Marcus made his way back upstairs. We all texted and called our people and churches to ask for prayer. Before I could get settled good at home, that big boy had decided to get back down to business, in the right position.

When Liz called me, some hours later, in terrific pain and with her progress stalled, my heart broke. Time stands still for no one, and the next thing we know, it's Sunday morning and she's still the same. Ken and I decided to head on to church, since we could do nothing but pray for her. I figured I could enlist more prayers while I was there while hearing from the Lord at the same time. Sunday School proved to be impossible. I sat at the back, fidgeting, crying, twisting inside. Every fiber of my being was distressed for our child, her husband, their baby. The teacher's mouth was moving but I was not listening. Finally, I was convicted that I should try to concentrate and pay attention. I looked at the wall behind the speaker, where a verse flashed up. I craned to read it...Mark 4:37-40, my very most favorite passage of Scripture. It's when Jesus is in a boat with the disciples, asleep (asleep!) on a pillow. A massive storm rages and He just keeps sleeping. The disciples rouse him with "Hey we're about to die here. Don't you care?!" Jesus sits up and rebukes the storm, which instantly stops. Then he rebukes the disciples with "Oh ye of little faith." In a moment, I almost got charismatic in our dear, quiet church as the amazing providence of God flooded through my mind. That teacher prepared the lesson in advance. That particular book and passage were arranged part and parcel before our daughter was having her "little" emergency. I was there, but not there...and then God just flashed me with another one of His sparrow moments ("not a sparrow falls without His notice"). My heart melted with peace, conviction, joy.

Yes, the baby eventually, finally arrived that afternoon. Ten pounds, 1 ounce, cuter and sweeter than a gingerbread cherub and perfect. I am still reeling from the stunning hand of God, who goes before and after, from dawn to dusk, from death to life, not necessarily in that order. Life is a mix of the hellish and the heavenly. We had a little of both.

Declaration of Dependence

It is a difficult subject, the spectre of human rights. Our Declaration of Independence states: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness." I don't know if they're making kids memorize the Declaration and other important documents these days, but we should study it again and remember what it means. My parents drilled us as children, that we were not to discriminate against other people, no matter what color, creed, or even if they were Yankees (even though we made jokes about Yankees because our Mama was one). In all seriousness, I was taught this from my youth. When I became a Realtor, the same principles were not just suggestions but laws. No steering, no discrimination. Unfortunately, we all struggle with this, as long as we are human. And I'm not only talking about race, but just basic human interaction. I tend to snap judge people who appear to be snooty, no matter who they are or where they came from or what nationality they are. This is a problem. Because in all my days, I have found there are many reasons someone might seem to be crabby or looking down their nose. They're scared, they are introverts, they are having a bad day, their Daddy just died. They might not have time to tend to my over-sensitive "discernment." Or maybe they're just snooty. Many of my dear friends were folks that I initially thought were snobs. I think God likes to mess with me like that. He doesn't want me to snap-judge anybody. He says, right there in His Word: "...complete my joy by being of the same mind, having the same love, being in full accord and of one mind. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests but also to the interests of others." Phillipians 2:2-4. God's Word is straightforward. We like to complicate the world around us, but if we'd dig in there and read it (and heed it), our answers are right there, simple as pie. Trouble is, there's that supernatural element that involves repentance, faith, turning away from our own natures, and that means we have to cry out to God, who is greater than all our weaknesses. We like our petty sins and grudges, and we're proud. It takes God to transform a frozen heart. 

As I make my daily travels, in business, in the grocery store, on the street, I pray I can look in the eyes of those I meet and to really see them, to count them as more significant than myself. We've been preached way too much about our precious self-esteem. I believe, if we could be honest about it, we've done beat that horse to death.

Cyclops in the Living Room

I swore I'd never have one of those strange devices in my house...you know, those little round speaker-looking things that our millenial children all bought years ago? Time and temptations have passed, and now I have them everywhere. I think there's five of them in here. Anyplace in the house that you decide to say something, they can hear you. And I think "They" can hear you too. What are we thinking? I recently heard a podcast where a speaker was discussing someone who had escaped the Gulag and said we are all nuts for having those things in our domiciles. It's just another step and they'll be hauling me off for discussing the merits of not recycling or considering not having my cat spayed. It does give me pause, that I'm living my life entirely too much out in the open. One afternoon, after discussing some way-too-personal stuff with my doctor, sister and Mama on the phone, I started seeing ads on the computer for programs to help with my little "problem." I hadn't even googled it yet, but there it was, dutifully slipping into my social media and giving suggestions for products on my feed. 

I'm starting to get paranoid. 

Sometimes at night, when I wake up unexpectedly, I see that the "thing" is lit up like a beacon. I'm wondering if it's listening for hints from our bumbling sleep-talk or checking to see if we're snoring and might need new CPAP supplies. I think it's also a little imperious, since it knows I'm supposed to wake up at six o'clock, so it's acting like it's a sunrise or something to give me a heads up. I wear a Covid mask (only when I am forced, in a place where I really really want to be, and even then maybe I won't) that says "Covid 1984" and has a giant eye in the middle of it. But then my hypocritic self has willingly  installed spyware all over my house. Go figure. So far, I've escaped jail time and public flogging. We're laughing now, but we probably need to think about that big 'ole eye in the sky.

Small Town Life

Last Sunday, it seemed like we were at church all day. And I guess we were...Ken had deacon duty so we got there early. We stayed late because there were folks to talk to. Went back early that afternoon to practice my flute with our young, talented harpist...then stayed after to catch up with a few other precious people. There were two humbling, meaty sermons sandwiched in there, along with the music and fellowshipping. The day was balmy and full of spring-promise. I felt like the church was  about to bust wide open, there was so much heartwarming love and care all around. Everybody's just thrilled to be alive, this spring of 2021. We've been at this church home for about 15 years, a place where God is viewed with awe and reverence, the Word is preeminent and the people are kind and not gossipy. It's not heaven but it's close. The older I get, the more I appreciate the body of Christ, even with its warts and flaws. There's folks that won't go to church...they say it's full of hypocrites. It's true, and I am one. We all are. Jesus said that he came for the sick (sin-sick), and that's why I'm there. 

We're still on baby watch for our dear daughter, where the burden of walking is becoming more challenging each day. Last Friday night, some of my family strolled down to the Mill for a concert with the Carrollton Jazz Orchestra (a pop-up event sponsored by Main Street, thank you so much!). It got colder by the minute, but I can't describe how much we enjoyed it. The kids whooped and hollered and danced. We walked down to Los Cowboys, waited a (very fun) hour, spent talking and laughing with our people, then ate great food and felt pampered by the staff there. We kept saying that the Jazz was gonna call that baby on out, but alas, he's still not here. Either way, it was a memorable night, another to add to our happy decision to move to downtown Villa Rica nine years ago. I always thought I was just a country girl, but I'm loving being a Townie after all. Good night, VR... 

Advent

 Tonight was girls' night out with my very-pregnant daughter. We headed on over to La Fiesta for yummy food and even better conversation. When we got back to my house, there was a quick debate about staying in the car or going inside to finish talking. We opted for the car, where so many times before we have sat and discussed the silliest or the deepest of topics. Time doesn't stand still, but yet it seems to during those nights when we've done this...intentionally focused on the moment at hand, talking about whatever that season has brought us. There have been topics of school, boys, jobs, friends, the future, the past. Tonight's big subject was the big boy nesting in her belly, his advent imminent. She's been married pert near nine months and he's due in another week and a half. If she's like her Mama, just add a dozen more days to that. I always cooked 'em a little longer. 

She said she never wanted the past to be the best thing that ever happened to her...how these days are the prize, the days that she is living now. I love that. It speaks of possibilities, of hope, of renewal. Here this wise woman blesses me, when just yesterday I was carrying her around in my own belly, wondering what kind of life she would lead. Old ladies always told me that life is short and that I should cherish every moment with my babies, so I did. And that's what I told her tonight. There's pain coming, there always is. Both in the birthing and in the raising. Receive it, I told her, and it won't be as hard. Know that even in pain, it's bringing good things. I asked her if I had hurt her since she married and she said only in that I seemed busy at times, inaccessible. Oh dear, the things that I don't want to be for my children. Life is short. God help me to remember what matters.