When I Am Afraid
June 29, 2015 § 2 Comments
In as much as a week, or as little as hours – I will be preparing to bring my daughter into the world. My heart has never known such terror and joy.
Though this is my second child, I’ve never been 9 months pregnant. I’ve never been close enough to the finish line to reach out and grab hold of the prize. Everything is new and fresh and altogether lovely. Contractions, leakage, and all the other magical signs that accompany impending delivery are my daily reminders that soon and very soon, I will once again hold my very own child in my arms. A child that I have grown and cherished and agonized over these last 9 months. I have equally loved and feared the hold that this tiny girl already has over me for every moment of this pregnancy.
If you have experienced a stillbirth, you know. You know the joy and the fear. You know that every movement, hiccup, kick to the rib, and alien-inside-your-belly-roll is a gift. A moment to treasure. On the other hand, you also know and almost daily experience the coldest, deepest fear when your little one is still. You know the panic that constricts your heart so tight and fast that it makes your vision tilt as you quickly run for the coldest glass of sickly sweet juice you can find to chug down before you lay on your side and pray for movement. You know those moments that stretch out for an eternity while you wait, almost afraid to hope, until suddenly you feel that reassuring wiggle that causes such swift relief it takes your breath and all the strength in your body away.
All the joy. All the fear. All the hope.
It’s taken a long time to get to this place, and we aren’t finished yet. The enemy of my soul loves to remind me -daily- that my daughters life could still be snuffed out in a moment. He loves to remind me -especially in my weakest moments- of the trauma and whirlwind of fear and sorrow that surrounded the birth of my son. He loves to remind me that has taken from me before and could easily do so again. And sometimes, I am afraid.
What he fails to recognize, is that in those brief moments of fear and doubting, he is actually working to increase my faith. Because the only way I know to fight back against the torment of the enemy is to trust in the infallible, indescribable and incomparable truth of God.
I love to remind that lying, thieving sack of trash that MY God has already won the victory over all his lies, schemes and treachery. I love to remind him that my life, and the lives of my husband, children and all my family have been bought and paid for with the blood of Jesus and because of that, I don’t have to be afraid of anything he tries to throw at me-including torment and death. I love to remind him that he is a loser and I am more than a conqueror. I love to remind him that when he comes against me, he’s also coming against a whole heavenly host – and that if he was smart he would turn and run.
And the crazy thing? When I begin to remind the devil of his place in my life, he does run- just like the coward that he is. Because there is NONE that can stand against the truth and power and sovereignty of God. He has promised life and life abundantly. It’s the truth I can cling to when I am weak. It’s the strength I can draw on when I feel overcome. And it’s the anthem I’m going to sing out for all the world to hear when they place my daughter, filled with radiant, abundant life safely in my arms.