My boy (my youngest) turned 6 last week, and I’ve found myself reeling in the reality of it. Like every mom, I wonder where the time went and how we’re here already, in the land of big-boy-ness.
This year, as I thanked the Lord for another year with my boy, He gently reminded me about how we got here, and He took me back to a time when I didn’t even know that I wanted my boy.
I’ll never forget the day that all that changed.
It was early in September, on a Saturday morning, in 2007. It was bird season, so my husband was out hunting, and I was home with the girls, reading a book*.
At the time, my girls were four and two. We were so happy as a little family of four. I finally felt like we were getting over that hump with little ones. I was beginning to see past the pink-tinted fog of diapers, temper tantrums and time-outs. Life was getting easier. It was becoming more fun.
When my husband walked in the back door a little after 10:00am, He found me laid out on the couch, crying a steady stream of tears. Before he could even ask what was wrong, I blurted out matter-of-factly, “We have to have another baby.”
It’s hilarious when I think about it now. “Welcome home, honey.”
God had spoken clearly to me that morning as I read. I couldn’t deny what I knew He was saying to me: “Carrie, if I’m really The Lord of your life, then why haven’t you given me this too? Have you even asked me about my thoughts regarding the size of your family? Or have you already decided what’s best for you on your own? What if I wanted to give you more? Bless you more? Show you more of myself in this, too?”
I knew the answer. I had already decided. Without Him. Based on fear, selfishness, and comfort.
Erik received the news with ease. He wanted for us what God wanted too: An openness to receive all that He would give.
So I cried. All weekend long. In a very real way, I was forced to get face to face with my flesh. And I needed to die. Die to my comfort, my agenda, my independence, my false sense of control and my lack of faith. Yet in all of that dying, something else was happening too. I was graciously being gifted with new strength, new hope, new faith and a new promise.
On Sunday night, I dried up all my tears and threw away my birth control pills. One month later, laughing, I delivered the news, “I’m pregnant.”
I tell you this story not to challenge you on the size of your family. This isn’t about babies. It’s about surrender. It’s about being open and available for the Lord to speak and to move.
Take an Inventory
Because of that day, nearly seven years ago, God has awaken me to a desire for all He has for me, the full lot of it. I want to squeeze out every last drop of His goodness, His purposes, His gifts, His provision, and His promises for me.
Here are some questions that I’ve been thinking through – kind of like a spiritual inventory to keep myself in check:
{Maybe you’re due for a little inventory too.}
Do I really believe that God is good and can be trusted?
What decisions am I making in the flesh, independent of God?
Am I making any choices based on fear, selfishness or comfort?
Do I believe that my choices are better than the ones that God might choose for me?
Do I believe that God’s choices for my life are in my best interest?
I’ll never arrive at the place where these questions are no longer valid – where I don’t need to inspect who’s reigning on the throne of my heart. More than anything I want to remain teachable, and questions like these serve as a good starting place for me.
And what can I say about this boychild of mine – the one I never even knew I wanted? I couldn’t be more grateful.
* The book that God used to speak to me that day was Lies Women Believe and The Truth That Sets Them Free by Nancy Leigh DeMoss. If that book hadn’t gotten through to me, Jennie Allen’s book, Anything, would have.
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