Birth Story: Daddy’s Home
Unlike the previous night, I slept pretty well and once again awoke to no missed calls or texts. I gathered the praise team together and went over some last-minute things for the rest of the retreat. We led the morning session and it was wonderful.
The Pastor friend, who prophesied before, said to the students that my wife and I were having a baby – a fact that pretty much everyone at the retreat knew. He said that not only is the birth important, but the energy and effort we expend in raising the child is important as well. In the same way, he said that this retreat was important for those in attendance but what’s important is how they will nurture and grow their faith in the next year, 5 years, decades. The parents of my daughter’s BFF were also expecting, though their due date was 5 days later than ours, and the Pastor spoke about how these births are symbolic of what is being birthed in this generation – that something new is coming forth.
The prevailing themes for me during the retreat were
- The Father heart of God – Having had a fairly distant father growing up, I never understood why God would want to be called Father as it can carry a negative connotation for certain people. But after having my own child and being unable to put into words the love I feel as a father and the lengths to which I would go to nurture and protect my child, I now understand why.
- How loud is the Gospel in my life? – And no, I don’t mean I’ll now be standing on street corners preaching about people’s need for Christ nor will I be a pushy, sleazy Christ salesman, but am I living as Christ lived? The Gospel means Good News, and everywhere Jesus went, He was good news, save for the religious establishment of the time. For the lepers, He was good news because He made them clean. For the blind He was good news because He made them see. Even for the adulterer, He was good news because He showed mercy before judgment. Am I good news to those I meet and encounter everyday?
The last bit of worship was intense!!! The only way I could describe it would be if a Rock festival of 800+ were held indoors and the music primarily followed a major chord progression. We were so loud that the University’s director had to come tell us to quiet down. It was awesome.
Afterward, my Pastor called me forward and he, along with all the students in attendance and the praise team I’ve grown to know and love, prayed for me and my family. Feeling immensely blessed, I grabbed my things and headed home.
To ensure I didn’t get lost on the way to the interstate, I asked our drummer to show me the way. If you’ve ever been in a band before, you know it’s never a good thing to be led by your drummer, but he knew the area well. I got in my car and I follow him out and WTH?!?!? The tire pressure light is on…
I call him and he pulls over and sure enough, I’ve got a nail in the right rear wheel – try saying that three times fast. It was a little after noon and the heat index was well above 100°F, but my friend tried to plug the tire to no avail because it punctured a bit into the sidewall, and put on the spare tire. Not too many people in the world as awesome–nor prepared for any roadside emergency–as he is.
So here I am – 180+ miles from home and driving on a spare on I-95. Normally, I’d be listening to music or an NPR Podcast (I love Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me) and driving pretty fast (always with the flow of traffic of course :-P) but because of the spare tire, I drove the speed limit in the right lane and had the radio off.
The contrast between the interior of my car and what was going on around me couldn’t have been greater. I drove for a little more than 3 hours having an awesome time talking with God as cars swerved around me telling me that I was #1. Sometimes, I just get used to having noise in my life, be it the radio, an iPod, the TV, or even the Internet, so three hours in relative silence and serenity was amazing, albeit uncomfortable initially.
Around 4pm, I was home. My daughter flew down the stairs and gave me a hug and kiss. I ran to my wife and gave her and Baby #2 a kiss. It was so good to be home.
I plopped down on the couch and read several books to my daughter; she couldn’t have been happier. She showed me new books she bought at the thrift store and she proudly showed me the new stickers she got on her potty chart. I sat down with my wife and we talked and talked and talked. I held her hand, massaged her swollen right foot (she called it her Fiona foot), and spent some time singing and praying over Baby #2.
I love being in God’s presence with 800+ other people, but I also love being in God’s presence, just the 3–and soon to be 4–of us.
I took my daughter on a date that night to her favorite place on earth: Chick-Fil-A – a playground and ice cream, what more can a kid ask for? I sat there enjoying all of her little mannerisms, marveling at how many of my mannerisms and sayings she knows, and just enjoying this precious gift God entrusted me with. The rest of the evening was uneventful as far as Baby #2 goes.
I woke up the next morning and went to work. At 9:25am, I get this text:
I just lost my mucous plug
I looked up my daughter’s birth story and found that it was 12 hours from the lost mucous plug until birth, so no worries there.
Then at 9:46am, I get this text:
Not sure but my water may be leaking out. Feels wet down there.
Coming Monday: WTH are you waiting for?!?! Go, Pop, Go!!!
Thanks for reading and have a great weekend everyone!