It’s Election Day. Social media has been all in an uproar for quite some time, and chances are that it will continue. All around the country, businesses are boarding up in case of riots. There is a certain tension and unrest that many people feel. They keep saying that this is one of the most pivotal elections of all time, that this will have a huge impact on the direction of our country for years to come, that we may never have a normal election again. There is talk of scandal and underhanded dealings, debates over priority of character and policy, so many words and so much mockery and hate and fear. Everyone wants their voice to be heard, everyone thinks they’re right, everyone is afraid of “the other side”.
God reigns and Jesus is still Lord. But if you post that, beware of those who will say you don’t “care enough”, that you’re in danger of being too heavenly minded to be any earthly good. If you promote your political views or the priority of voting, it’s “pushy”, and if you don’t, it’s displaying your ignorance or irresponsibility, or some such thing.
I’m tired of it and the election results aren’t even in yet. The toilet paper shelves are empty again, I’ve heard. People I know are stockpiling food. The rumor and conspiracy theories are in full force.
Nobody would have predicted this, a year ago. Anybody who suggested it would have been laughed at. Everyone is talking about how 2020 is just a terrible year and can’t it be over yet, or else that it’s only going to get worse and “just you wait” for what’s coming. They talk about a vaccine and the mark of the beast and the end of life as we know it.
Caring too much about it all is considered not okay, but certainly caring too little is definitely not okay, either. You can do no right in the eyes of the public. Why we care about public opinion so much is baffling, anyway.
And in the midst of it all, I’m tucked away in my cozy little home. The leaves are turning to brilliant fall colors and the sunshine still streams in my window. The pace of my life is a very different one than at this time last year, but that’s okay. My morning was spent cuddling with my husband and then getting him off to work, doing Bible study, reading a book on pregnancy and birth, working on a project for my hubby, finding the energy to take a shower. My baby is busy wiggling all around in my womb while I write. My husband is in his office working hard. I’ll make us lunch, do dishes, maybe pick up some groceries.
I don’t know all of what the future holds, and I don’t particularly care. God’s got us, come what may. Sure, I’ve voted, and will take responsibility where I can. But the results are in His hands. He appoints whom He wishes.
I do know one thing that the future holds, Lord willing. Come March, in about 4 months, I’ll get to have my firstborn son in my arms. That’s a big part of why I just want to hide away from all the chaos. I know my baby is coming and I want to build a safe little home for him. Prepare for his arrival. Have peace and unity in my marriage. Figure out how to do all this keeping-house stuff with low energy. Make a happy, peaceful place for my little one to grow and thrive before he ever has to encounter the big scary world out there. Even now, he’s growing in my womb, and I know that my attitude and stress level affects him. I want to stay calm and grounded, not just for my sake but for his too.
He already moves so much, my little boy. He’s safe to do so, free to wiggle just as much as he wants in there. Sure, he’ll run out of space, but even then, I have a feeling that it won’t stop him from moving and exploring and growing. I get to have him close to me all the time now, aware of his movements and awake times and asleep times like nobody else. I know where he’s lying in me, know what wakes him up and what puts him to sleep. My whole body is changing and shifting to accommodate him. Everything stretches and adjusts and prioritizes baby, and I want to foster that, to enjoy this season and allow it to prepare me for the next season.
When he’s born, he’ll still need to be close to me. He’ll still need mama to know where he is, to wake him up and put him to sleep. My milk will be his sustenance and he will need me still. My heartbeat and voice will be the sounds he knows best. My body will forever wear the marks of carrying him, though the memories tucked away are far more, as every precious moment with this child will be captured and treasured.
He’ll learn independence soon enough, but I have no desire to rush it. I want to enjoy the season we’re in, not get ahead of myself. Yes, the world he grows up in may be a very different one than mine, but he doesn’t need me to worry about it. The best preparation I can give him is embracing the season we’re in now, together.
He’s right where he’s supposed to be. The seasons will change and I want him always to be right where he’s supposed to be. From the season of being in my womb, to the season of being held in my arms, to the season of exploration and bringing everything back to “show Mommy”, to the season of thinking and processing, to the season of independence and maturity. Eventually, where he’s supposed to be will be out on his own, carving out his little kingdom and advancing the kingdom of Christ, working hard, loving a woman and raising his own children.
I want to raise him with the end in mind, sure. I’ll be raising a man, I know this. But today, my little man doesn’t need me to worry about the world he’ll live in when he’s all grown up, or how I’ll raise him to be the godly man I’m praying he will be. He just needs me to rest, eat, trust, pray, read, hope, love, and live. That’s how I can best prepare the both of us for coming days, no matter what they hold.
They say that the hand that rocks the cradle rules the world. That feels like an awful lot of responsibility. And yet, somehow, there it is, and this tiny boy I’m cradling in my womb is an eternal soul with a destiny planned by God. May God give me the grace to raise him well, today and every day.