The Clock

It’s either moving way too slow or way too fast.

When we were engaged, the clock moved at a snail’s pace.
Our wedding day, the clock decided to get with the program and the time moved so fast, I couldn’t absorb it all.

When I was pregnant, I felt like I had been pregnant for about four years each time.
My baby turned five years old today and I have no idea how that happened. I don’t have babies, toddlers or preschoolers anymore. My son is getting taller by the second, my middle girl is absorbing knowledge faster than I can give it to her and my baby has opinions about her clothes.

Make it stop.

Since I’m supposed to writing about marriage, I am reminded of the first few weeks after I found out I was pregnant with my first child. I was at work, and thought I might have some sort of sinus infection, so I went to see the nurse. I told her that I needed a prescription, but wanted to make sure I wasn’t expecting before I could take the medicine. I told her that I knew I wasn’t, but I am not a risk taker. I just stood there talking about how there was no way I was going to have a baby, I just needed my prescription and I’d get back to work. The nurse grinned at me and said, “Really?” She showed me the blue line and I felt the floor tip sideways. I gripped the countertop until my knuckles were white and said, “WHAT?” I couldn’t breathe. My vision was blurry. The nurse told me that the baby would need oxygen, so I should take some deep breaths. I stumbled out of the office, somehow got my purse and drove home. I prayed the entire time, for the baby’s salvation, good health, and for Michael’s understanding. This was NOT in the plan.

I walked in our little apartment and Michael was in our overstuffed green chair, with his Bible open on the ottoman in front of him. He had his elbows on his knees, leaning forward, reading the Word. I stood there in the doorway and he looked up, very concerned. He asked if I saw the nurse and was I okay. I walked over and sat on his lap and told him I was very okay, and that we were having a baby. He was dumbfounded. He told me to go see a doctor. We called and made the appointment and I went on back to work.

We saw the doctor a couple of days later and he confirmed what the test showed. We were becoming a family of three. We started telling people and I started googling things I had never googled before.

The weirdest thing happened at this point. I didn’t see it coming at all.

Michael quit speaking to me. He just clammed up. He wasn’t angry, he just pulled away. I was overloading my mind with information on pregnancy and babies and he didn’t want to talk about any of it at all.

It scared me. I felt alone and unsure of everything. What if he didn’t get past this? Why was this MY fault? It was a strange time, and it lasted a little over a week. On a Sunday, after a long weekend of youth events with our church and feeling further from him than I ever had, I drove home to New Orleans from Ponchatoula where we served at a church. He would ride with a friend and come home later. I was alone in the apartment and fell apart. I wanted to eat something with sour cream and wasn’t sure if I could eat sour cream while pregnant. I mean, it says “sour”, right? I cried my heart out right there on my couch, and needed a hug more than ever.

Michael walked in, and I pray I never forget the expression on his face. He walked straight to me, pulled me to him and hugged me tightly. He apologized and told me over and over again that he was okay and we were going to be fine. The Lord arranged that day for him to ride with his friend Mike. Mike encouraged him and told him that your family is what you make it to be. Michael heard him and believed him. He came to the conclusion on that ride home that we were going to be great. If this was God’s plan, then we were going to enjoy it and do our best to be faithful.

The next day, I was heading to my office after lunch and the florist was dropping off a huge bouquet of daisies for me with a card that said, “We’re going to be fine. I love you and our baby.”

We had no control over the clock. We planned to have kids after five years of marriage. On our fifth anniversary, I was six months along with our second child. I said I didn’t want three kids, and my third baby is asleep right now, dreaming away the last few minutes of her fifth birthday.

Our heavenly Father is the timekeeper. We are only responsible for how we respond to the events that He has set on His timeline.

My life is immensely full of blessing because of my lack of control. I have no regrets, because when I became His child, I gave up my right to create my own timeline anyway. Losing my life to gain Christ has been the best thing that ever happened to me. Knowing Jesus is enough, but the fact that he put Michael, Aidan, Molly and Paisley on His timeline for my life is better than I could ever deserve.




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