Gifts That Didn't Make the List

My birthday is coming up on June 17th. As people have started to ask me what I want, I've come up with a few things: supplies so I can learn to knit, a pedicure, a bathrobe. I love gifts, giving and receiving them, so these lists are fun to make. I'm learning, however, that sometimes, the gifts that are the most precious, the most necessary, are gifts that didn't make the list: gifts that are cut-to-the-bone painful and ones that I would have never asked for myself.

Yesterday we had our second trip to the hospital for unexpected and very scary bleeding. The first trip was last Tuesday, 3 hours away from home in Williamsburg. I was with some friends at a timeshare, resting after a girls' day out shopping. I was terrified and shocked. But the gifts were there, equally surprising: friends holding my hands in an ER at night, my first ultrasound and the baby moving wildly, Patrick making the drive fast enough to be with me as I was released, a friend who had woken up in the night to pray for me--moved by the Spirit to remind me He was aware, a message from a former teacher praying for us.

The days that followed were a blur: a lot of resting, reading, crying out to God, and experiencing various degrees of pain. A group I'm part of is currently reading 2nd Corinthians. Reading it for the first time in the Message, I found my next set of gifts:

We carry this precious Message around in the unadorned clay pots of our ordinary lives. That's to prevent anyone from confusing God's incomparable power with us. 

So we're not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace.

And now, isn't it wonderful all the ways in which this distress has goaded you closer to God? You're more alive, more concerned, more sensitive, more reverent, more human, more passionate, more responsible. Looked at from any angle, you've come out of this with purity of heart.

 I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations...I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ's strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become. (All from The Message, 2nd Corinthians)

That brings me to yesterday. We had our follow up appointment in the morning. The gifts there were evident: clearance to go back to my normal routine, a wonderful midwife setting up a consult with a specialist at UVA who knows about autoimmune diseases and pregnancy, my first walk in almost a week under the trees at the Arboretum. We had a restful, hopeful day.

Right before Patrick went to work (another gift), I began bleeding again...a nightmare on replay. We were checked out at the hospital and sent home to rest. I have another follow-up this afternoon. We are feeling a little like shipwrecked sailors: battered and worn, waiting for a break in the storm. YET, there are gifts still. Today as I rest while Patrick is away at work, I hold on to a special gift from prayer-gifted Kate, the amazing sister of one of my best friends, Kristen. In praying for me, she was given three images: the word Elohim (the name of God that means Creator, strong one), a light bulb, and a house with three roofs. She wanted to let me know that I am sheltered, extra protected by the strong God we serve. When I shared this with Luke, my father-in-law, he said quickly, "The three roofs-- The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit!" What a merciful God we have!

I thought about writing this post later today, after we know more at our appointment, after things were more stable. But I felt led to give God glory NOW, in the midst of another scary day of waiting. I have been given another day to be this sweet baby's mama. I will thank God for that, and whatever other gifts that might be coming my way, asked for or not.