As summer began to fade into fall, my familial expectations turned small. After close to a year of three-a-days at the gym, a thirty-five pound loss, and a self-protective preoccupation, I had set my sights solely upon myself – as if they had ever been any place else, really. After four years of marriage, at age 24, I had decided I did not want children – ever.
Somehow, the crisp air burned warm in my heart on a day where I proved as unsuspecting as I was unprepared. A routine check offered a plain explanation for my constant fatigue and weakness with my ever-increasing high impact abdominal workouts. The diagnosis was a consummation of all things unknown.
“You are pregnant.”
I remember feeling out of sorts; awkward; indisposed. Should I do something differently? What if I fall and hurt “it?” How do I tell my husband? (Who, at the time, claimed to want “a whole baseball team.”) I did not know how to act because I knew so certainly how very extraordinary that ordinary day had become.
The vulnerability I felt that night lying in bed was greater than I’d ever experienced. I was no longer autonomous in any way. I was someone’s mother. The weight of that realization was overwhelming – not to mention inconvenient. If we’re being honest, I would never have been found in any line to sign up for this job.
Still, God’s grace is immense. His works are wonderfully wise. My Father gave me that which I did not want in order to fill my life full of what I most needed.
More than ten years have passed since that fateful day. I’ve been given three little girls, a live-in mother, a call to quit working outside my home and teach, two dogs, and three fish since then. If someone had traveled back through time and told me this would be my life ten years ago, I never could have believed it. In fact, I probably would have hit the ground running.
How wrong I was! How blessed I am! How thankful! How undeserving! How indescribably humbled! God has made me the keeper of so many good things- even despite my utter foolishness!
These recollections bring me to my present state. This Christmastime, I feel the anticipation of Mary. I have news bursting at my seams just like those shepherds and angels did. Wisdom has challenged me to offer up my very best gifts to a cause much greater than the I’ve ever expected. I hear a distinct voice calling to me – the innkeeper.
The overcrowded innkeeper who had room – even ever so humble – for one or two more.
Several weeks ago we began a journey. Redemption is written all over the road behind us and all I can do is hide my face and worship. I have scarce few words proper enough to express the joy, the gratitude, and the all-consuming awe inside my heart. Still, I must share my news. Therefore, if you will, Hark!
Five years ago I was pregnant with my youngest child, Maylee. My husband and I decided we did not want any more children. I was eight months pregnant when he had a vasectomy. I believed it was the right decision for the better part of a month. But I knew the very moment I held Maylee in my arms that I wanted more children. I was overjoyed with my brand-new, beautiful, healthy baby girl, but I felt the sting of regret simultaneously.
Over these five years, a day has scarcely gone by where I haven’t wished we’d not been so foolish. I prayed. The Lord has been merciful to me. A few weeks ago my husband scheduled for a consultation for a vasectomy reversal. This Thursday we will go and talk to the doctor. I know it is only a first step on the journey, but it is a testimony to God’s faithfulness to me. This is truly a day I never thought I would see.
I am so thankful; so undeserving; so incredibly humbled. I am Ebeneezer Scrooge the moment he awoke! I am truly amazed.
Please pray with us for a safe, skilled, successful procedure. Please pray that if it is the Lord’s will he would bless us with more children and help us to be found worthy of this call. Thank you in advance.
“You own the inn?” the Lord inquired. “On loan, you’d better say. God owns the inn.” At that the Lord knew they were kin, and ventured on: “Do you recall the tax when Caesar said to all the world that teach must be enrolled?” Old Jacob winced, “Are north winds cold? Are deserts dry? Do fishes swim and ravens fly? I do. A grim and awful year it was for me….Do you know what it cost for me to house the Son of God?” ~John Piper, The Innkeeper