Seven years ago, I was expecting our first precious bundle. Romanticizing the experience and preparing for our perfectly pink little girl would not change the fact that, at present, I was sick as a dog. I don’t ever remember being so nauseous in my life. To top it off, it would not go away. Four months of feeling like the day needed to start with dry toast and saltine crackers was waning on my storybook celebration. My birthday was less than memorable that year, or should I say memorable in a new way. Chuck decided to make me an extraordinary meal. I knew immediately this would go array because nothing but noodles had stayed down.
I sat at the table and looked at my plate. “What is it,” I asked. “Braised Duck with jasmine rice,” Chuck proudly resounded. I nodded and commented, “Excuse me,” before returning to the bathroom. While hugging the toilet bowl, I thought to myself- braised duck! That’s what he thought he should make! Where did he get the duck?! Maybe next year he could make me spotted owl!
Two little girls later, the braised duck comment still finds its way into conversation.
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Hurrying for church, making biscuits, straightening hair, packing snacks, and getting everyone dressed to rush out the door, I hear Eva and Charlotte ask if I can paint their nails before church. My shoulders slumped as I thought nothing else could fit in an already crammed morning. Trying to do everything, and I still fell short.
Chuck could see the frustration on my face. “She has no concept of time, Kristen.” She doesn’t understand that yet. All she knows is to ask.”
After our last miscarriage, I was rocking Charlotte to sleep a few weeks later. Still healing physically and probably a bit emotionally (although I don’t like to admit it), a friend had given me a green crocheted baby blanket. She wanted me to have it as a way to remember God’s faithfulness, no matter how the pages turned.
Sitting there rocking Charlotte to sleep, Eva walked in and saw the baby blanket rolled up and positioned beside a picture on Charlotte’s wall table. It was a beautiful reminder that God had been faithful to me all my years.
Eva quickly grabbed it off the table and walked over to me, “Mom. You always talk about faith and trusting God, even when we can’t see it. This blanket wasn’t made to sit on a shelf but to wrap around a baby.” Disheartened, I pronounced, “Oh, Eva, bless your faith, but I just don’t think I can keep trying. I have you and Charlotte to think about.” Boldly, she moved in, “Mom, before you say NO, please pray.” It was all I could do to keep my heart from breaking. She was six years old and facing the impossible with her feet firmly planted. I forced a small smile and promised her I would. As she left the room, Charlotte fell asleep in my arms.
Picking up on my habit of placing pictures in sight of my faith, Eva drew a picture of our family with an added baby. She handed it to me and told me to put it in my Bible when I prayed (and we think our kids aren’t watching).
Time passed, and I was hoping she would forget, but day after day, she would ask, “Did you talk to God? What did He say?”
I would politely tell her I had but had not gotten the final word yet, seriously doubting any more children were in our future. Doubt had taken up residence where I once had a burning faith. I was tired of the fight and ready to move into a new phase of life- raising my children. I was comfortable.
Life went on as it does; dogs got fed, floors mopped, and the upstairs family room found a new coat of paint. I was finishing the trim one morning and visiting with a friend while Chuck had taken the girls on a quick trip to town. She asked me how I was feeling, and I gave the usual responses. Out of nowhere, I made the statement, “But what if I am wrong? What if I quit and leave something in Heaven that belongs to me- here.”
I felt the spark of faith light inside me again. I wouldn’t know it for two more months, but faith had begun to rise with each stroke of my paintbrush. I was pregnant with our third bundle of pure joy. God heard the faith-filled prayers of a little girl more than the complaints and excuses of a mature woman in Christ. Not only did Eva not understand the parameters of time yet, she had no concept of doubt. The faith of a child will move the heart of God – YOU notwithstanding.
God dealt gently with me. It was the same as He did with Elijah when he fled into a cave, trying to escape Jezebel. He was old and tired. He had lost sight of what God could do for him, yet God was not harsh. God gently reminded him he was not alone (1 Kings 19:9-18).
I would rather be sixty at graduation than ninety-five, wondering, “What if.” If it belongs to me and is boxed up and ready to go sitting at heaven’s doors – I want to believe God for it. When I am old and gray, I want to show up at the gates of Heaven with every faith-filled promise He let me possess. I want God to see I spent my time here on earth- busy. I had work to do, and I didn’t quit.
Three voices you will hear in your head
Jim Stockdale
The Devil –you can’t
Yourself– you shouldn’t
God– you can
I told the nurse to look again; I was not having a little boy. She laughed and remarked, “I can take all the photos you would like; it’s a boy.” My friend did not know when she handed me a green baby blanket that I would have another child, much less a boy. Eva didn’t know the outcome when she so boldly told me to fight one more time, but God did. He put the pieces of the puzzle together.
Charles Tyson Howard will join us just a few days before Christmas; if that isn’t a gift packaged straight from Heaven, I don’t know what is.
Eva not only believed for me when I didn’t have the strength. She was specific; the picture she drew for me to place in my Bible was a baby brother. All the complications or prerequisites can’t stop the blood of Jesus from covering your blessing.
You, too, have shipments in Heaven waiting to be delivered. Start looking for those blessings to show up.
The other day, on the way to school, Eva said, “You know, Mom, I wouldn’t mind having three brothers and sisters.” To see my face was to know my quiver is full – smile.
Dedicated to Eva Jewel Howard
Never move your feet when your faith is planted.
By You, I have been upheld from birth. You are He who took me out of my mother’s womb. My praise shall continually be of You.
Psalms 71:6
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