Never tell God what you are and are not willing to do.
In the Christmas season of 2008, I told God that I (in no uncertain terms) would be happy to birth the baby boy I carried ANY day except for Sunday, December 7th. My husband had a rather large Christmas concert scheduled for that day and was taking a rather large portion in it (conducting, soloing, etc, etc) … ie: the kind of thing at which he might be missed if he happened to be at the hospital instead.
December 7, 2008
12:07 AM: I looked at the glowing digits on my clock beside the bed. Really? Only midnight? Sighing, I decided that now was as good as any time to get up for one of what would undoubtedly be a hundred or so runs to the bathroom this night. As I stood up, I felt the now familiar tightening. Labor?! Are you kidding me, God? We talked about this! Maybe it’s false labor, early labor … something other than having-my-baby-today labor!
3:00 PM: Apparently this labor wasn’t false. However, it was slow, and knowing that there was much to do for the concert that night, I dressed in my holiday finest, and went to the church.
Sometime after 8:00 PM: Okay, now labor wasn’t quite so slow. The sounds of Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus” wafted faintly into the library from the sanctuary – the final piece to this concert … It was done and it had been good. Thank you, God.
8:45 PM: Begging my husband to both drive faster and NOT hit every bump in the road.
9:00 PM: The charge nurse’s face in my vision: “Honey, if I sit you up to give you the epidural, the baby’s going to come out! You can do it! Just don’t push yet! The doctor is on his way.”
9:24 PM: A son is born. He is beautiful.
Dear Son, This is just one of many crazy and beautiful stories of God’s love for us/you that we will rehearse with you as you age.
Happy Second Birthday! Love, Mom