Ultrasounds and eternity

While I was laying flat on the table having my ultrasound last week, several thoughts were running through my mind. The expected ones, the ones I remember having during Nate's ultrasound, "Wow, that's our baby?!", "Is anything wrong with her?" "Everything looks incredibly beautifully healthy to me..." "I wonder what she will look like..." and then there were the new ones....


My daughter was moving throughout the entire ultrasound and several times she turned and looked right at the monitor. And I thought of my little brother James and wanted to cry. I remember my mom saying how her 20-week ultrasound with him was amazing. I remember talking to her on the way home from her appointment and her saying repeatedly, "And he kept looking right at me...it seemed like he was saying, 'Hi mom!'". She said that she did not remember any of her other children looking at her like that when they were in utero. There was something extra special about those moments for my mom.


As I lay on the hard table I thought about the fact that this could be the only time that I see my daughter. My mom had not the remotest clue that her ultrasound would be the only time she would see her son alive. That that would be the only time she would be able to see him look up at her. 


I have realized over and over again over the last few months, that there are two ways I can respond to these thoughts. I can either curl up inside, paralyzed by fear and worry, or I can fully enjoy this moment that I have with my baby. Because the truth is, today might be the last day I have with her....or with anyone else that I love.


Worrying would just make now, the only time that I know I have, miserable. Instead, I treasured seeing my darling baby on the big screen on the wall and I try to stop and notice every time I feel her kick inside me. I stop my "busyness" to play with Nate and make silly faces at him and dance around the room with him. I try to love on Brett as if it was our last day together. Because one day it will be our last day and the odds are that we won't know that it is until it is too late. 


It's hard to be so painfully aware of the fragility of life and to not curl up in a ball of fear. Sometimes I do. Sometimes the fear overwhelms me and makes me feel sick to my stomach.


Then I remind myself that I have to trust God. Not trusting that He won't hurt me, that He won't take away everything I love; He never promises me that. Trusting that His way, even if it is the opposite to my way, is the only way, the best way. And it does not matter if I don't like it, it doesn't matter how happy I am, and it does not matter that I understand it or see any "good" come out of it. All that matters is that He is somehow glorified, even if I do not really understand what that means in my situation. 


I can either hold everything I love with closed fists, full of fear and anger, and lose it all eventually anyway, or I can open my hands to Him, offering all that is precious to me and be filled with His peace. 


Often when I sing hymns like this one (which happens to be one of my favorites), I wonder if I really am entitled to sing it. Because I don't always believe it, but I want to believe. Maybe if I sing it enough... =)


"Father, I know that all my life is portioned out for me;
the changes that are sure to come, 
I do not fear to see:
I ask thee for a present mind, 
Intent on pleasing thee.


I would not have the restless will
That hurries to and fro,
Seeking for some great thing to do,
Or secret thing to know;
I would be treated as a child,
And guided where I go.

I ask thee for the daily strength,
To none that ask denied,
A mind to blend with outward life,
While keeping at thy side,
Content to fill a little space,
If thou be glorified.

In service which thy will appoints
There are no bonds for me;
My secret heart is taught the truth
That makes thy children free;
A life of self-renouncing love
Is one of liberty."


Trinity Hymnal #444




Lord I believe, help Thou my unbelief.