Answer to Prayer

In an earlier post, I mentioned that one of our concerns about me being on bedrest was the limited amount of paid leave hours I had accrued, and that my boss was working on the possibility of getting donated leave time hours from other county employees.

Well, today I got an email from my boss saying that they had already gotten a pay period's worth of donated hours. That's 86 hours donated since last Thursday or Friday! Not only that, but he's expecting more. Wow!

A lot of times in the morning, during that time between asleep and really awake, I worry. About money, about the boys, about a lot of things. And it doesn't help that the third trimester aches and pains have set in with a vengeance....I mean, I can barely get out of bed without whimpering through the whole process. This particular morning, I was worrying about our boys coming early (as in, what would happen if they came in the next couple of weeks) and how much they would have to go through medically, both directly after the birth and for the rest of their lives. Reading about the possible effects of prematurity doesn't help, that's for sure.

So I started praying, asking God to watch over our boys, to help them if they come really early, because quite frankly I was thinking my body is simply not made to carry two babies. Now I'm not normally one of those people who hears the voice of God. In fact, I think I can say that this is the clearest I've ever heard Him. And all He said was, "Who created your body? Who is creating these children inside of you? And when do I make mistakes?"

You don't. I know that, and yet...why am I going through this?

"Trust me."

But what if I put my complete trust in You to take care of us and things just keep getting worse? That will hurt. And what if I put my complete trust in You, and then Your plan for us is different from what I so desperately want? That will be incredibly hard to accept.

"Will you trust me?"

And so the struggle goes. I want so badly to put all of my trust in Him, to give Him the reins but that would mean giving up all of the control that I like to think I still have over this situation. Right now if I just pray enough, if I research enough, if I think enough positive thoughts, if I take good enough care of myself, then things will turn out for the best, right? And yet...since when have I EVER been in control, truly? Or rather, since when has me being in control ever turned out as good as when God is in control?

And so there it is...I know in my mind that giving up the last bit of my "control" will bring me nothing but peace. I know God will take care of our family. Now I just have to convince my heart of the same thing. It's like holding on to the edge of a cliff by your finger tips, ignoring the fact that the pain of holding on can end as soon as you trust that the arms below you will provide a safe and soft landing. Mentally, you know they will. But something still screams to hold on, to distrust the safety those arms offer.

I give up. I let go. Lord, before these babies were mine and Nathan's, they were Yours. And always will be. I give you the reins, I'm tired of hanging on to the cliff by the tips of my fingers. Not mine, but Your will be done. I'm not saying that I will not be disappointed if I don't get to go home after my appointment on Thursday, that it won't hurt and that I won't cry. But I will do my best to know that You have a bigger plan and trust You to meet me where I am.

After all, You're taking care of something as small as my paid leave hours.