Thursday, May 31, 2007

It's Called a Baby

I'm very leery of statistics. Three weeks ago I made my IWU students read an article by Christian Smith debunking some popular stats floating around the Evangelical world. It's not that I don't like statistics, it's that I don't trust them without some thorough data backing them up.

However, I entered into a new relationship with statistics on Easter weekend. Right before Easter, John and I learned that I was pregnant with our first child (yeah, by the way, I'm pregnant!). Our excitement gave way to fear as we received some discouraging reports about levels that were lower than the doctors would have liked. We entered into a lengthy period of doctors visits, blood tests, and continually hearing the phrase, "...this is cause for concern."

Prior to my decision to seriously limit my time on Google, I spent countless hours on-line looking for statistics that would give us hope.

Eventually, we started receiving some good news, and I began to rejoice at hitting certain milestones. I knew the stats of keeping a baby after five weeks...after seeing the heartbeat...after hearing the heartbeat...after the first trimester. My anxiety began to melt as we entered into these phases...I clung to each statistic along the way.

And then somewhere along the way I realized this wasn't a stat, this was a baby. I wasn't calculating odds, I was growing a life. This was not a statistical report; this was a gift that God has entrusted to us for however long he has appointed. We are supposed to nurture this life for however long a season God has ordained. This child belongs to God.

Lord willing we will get to see this Little D sometime in mid-December. If this little one cooperates (and everyone has already told me it won't), this baby will arrive between semesters.

Here's a picture. Little D is 2 inches long with a heart rate of 179. We saw the little one bouncing around like a pinball machine--we even got a little wave. And yes, I am thrilled to report that everything looks healthy! The doctor said this little one is very active.

I told my students in youth group last night. A 7th grader asked if she could pray for me. Here's what she said: "Um, God. Please help Pastor Amanda to feel better. And please help her baby to grow bigger than two inches. And, uh, help Pastor Amanda to be happy and the baby to be happy. Yup."

Yeah, I kinda think "yup" and "amen" are about the same, too.

Friday, May 25, 2007

The time when our apartment did not blow up

This is a story from 2003. It's a story about the time when our apartment did not blow up.

John and I had subletted our apartment for a summer and when we returned home we noticed it smelled...different. It was not necessarily a bad smell, it just wasn't our smell. It didn't smell like us. So I immediately set to work lighting candles, opening windows, and waving doors open and shut to try to regain the Drury scent (whatever that might be).

As I paused to sniff the air yet again, I realized there was something familiar to the smell. Something was burning.

I did a quick glance around the apartment to make sure there were not any open flames. While I did not see any open flames, I noticed that the smell seemed to be considerably stronger in the kitchen. I knelt beside an outlet, took a whiff, and jumped back by the strong burning smell I had taken in. I quickly walked over to another outlet nearby, took a sniff, and encountered the same burning smell. I went from outlet to outlet in our 400 square foot apartment, each time finding a strong burning smell.

I hurried into the bathroom, smelled the outlet, and reached to grab John a towel (he was in the shower...he didn't know our apartment was about to blow up). As I opened my mouth to tell him we had to leave I caught a look at my reflection in the mirror...I was missing a rather large chunk of my hair.

Apparently, while lighting candles I managed to light my head on fire. And every time I knelt down to smell an outlet the singed endings of my hair were coming into my line of smell.

That's my story.