Have I mentioned that I live in a remarkable neighborhood? Probably. One example of note is that there have been eight babies that I can count, I may be missing one, born here since October and it seems like every time a baby is born another woman or two announces a pregnancy. At the last three baby showers I have attended the pregnant women have outnumbered the not pregnant ones. I can say with a certainty that I could not have lived here seven years ago when Jonathan first started talking seriously about wanting to got to seminary. Another example of God’s perfect timing.
Anyway, of those eight babies born since October, three have been born in the last seven days – two of them yesterday. This leads to the inevitable discussion of “Who’s next?” Being new to the neighborhood, and bad at math, I am often the one asking the question. This time around I knew that the next one in line was Sharon, due with her third at the end of February. Then, as far as I can tell, I’m next.
With both the mackerdoodle and the cheesedoodle I was doing things by the calendar. At 29 weeks I wasn’t considering myself even CLOSE to delivery. I mean with the mackerdoodle we destroyed our entire house at 32 weeks pregnant and at the time I clearly remember wondering why people thought I was cutting it close. This time, however, because I’m next after Sharon, I feel this strange sense of being closer to my due date, closer to the arrival of our snickerdoodle, more impatient with this pregnancy.
Isn’t it interesting how comparison makes us universally discontent? I am not looking at Carrie and Grace who are due after me, and comparing my pregnancy to theirs. I am not comparing my current blessing with the empty womb I bore for more than eleven years. When my eyes are on the people around me I find a way to be discontent, impatient, generally miserable. It reminds me that while scripture tells us we’re surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, we are to fix our eyes on Christ if we want to run this race well.
So I might be “in the hole” to use baseball parlance, but I have no intention of living it in a hole. I think it’s time to change my focus, don’t you?