What a strange week this has been.  On Monday, August 12, while I celebrated with joy the arrival of one dear friend's sweet bundle of sugar and spice, I grieved simultaneously the loss of another friend's precious unborn daughter.  What a dichotomy...tears of joy for one friend mingling with tears of sorrow for another.  And I have to say, I honestly still haven't figured out what to feel, even now, days later.  I've been moody.  I've cried for no reason this week.  I've been irritable, yelling at my children for minor offenses.  And while I'd like to say it's all the fault of my raging hormones, I suspect the true culprit is something much deeper, much more sinister; sin.  Specifically, the sin of worry.

I'd have to say, I've spent the majority of the last few weeks engaged in fruitless worry and anxiety.  I've allowed myself to sit in it, even soak in it, as thought it were a nice, soothing bath.  I've worried about when Lydia would be born.  I've worried about how Lydia would be born.  I've worried about my children's adjustment.  I've worried about whether or not my parents would be out of town during her birth.  All these worries came to a screeching halt that Monday afternoon, when I learned that my friend's baby had passed away.  Why was I so worried about things that didn't matter?  My focus was entirely in the wrong place, and friends, I repented of my sin that afternoon at my computer with tears streaming down my face.

I've stopped trying to make Lydia come in my time.  I've stopped begging God for her to be born when I think it would be best, and instead, I've started asking that His will be done.

"Lord, even if she's born the same day Liesel starts school, your will be done."

"Lord, even if she's born after my parents leave town for their vacation, your will be done." 

"Lord, even if I have to be induced...again, your will be done." 

"Lord, even if.... YOUR will be done!"  

This past Friday, I had my weekly doctor's appointment.  I went in thinking I'd have my regular check to see if I'd made any progress.  As I sat in the office, waiting, I felt the Holy Spirit telling me not to do it...trust.  For a person who likes to be in complete control at all times, this was really hard.  I'd be lying if I said it was easy, but I left that office with peace, knowing that I was leaving the circumstances and timing of Lydia's birth in God's hands. That day was just one day, and that battle just one battle.  I suspect over the next few days (maybe even weeks), I will continue to struggle to give this anxiety to God.

Tomorrow is 39 weeks, 4 days.  I'm almost there.  Honestly, the thought of two more weeks makes me want to just take an extended nap, but I know there are so many blessings in more time.  Time with my daughters, time with my husband, time to rest, time to prepare, time to enjoy play-dates and visits with friends, time to minister to the needs of others, time to appreciate all the blessings I'm undeserving of...more time is really a gift.  I'm learning to recognize it; I'm learning to enjoy every second.  Lord, your will be done.