Preacher Boy

Preacher Boy

Sunday morning I found myself in a pit of worry. I’d been feeling quite well until I had a medical test on Friday and the side effects followed me farther into the weekend than I thought they should. I’d had assurance from my midwife I’d be fine but I wasn’t feeling fine when I googled my symptoms. I’ll just see what other expecting moms say about this, I thought. I hoped to reassure myself but was horrified at all the women who said they had experienced miscarriages after the same medical test I had just had. Intellectually, I knew early miscarriages are common and most were probably not related to the procedure, but I stiffened anyways, thought of waking Joe and asking for prayer, snapped at Isaac hanging at my side, then shut my screen and went for my Bible looking for comfort.

I leafed through pages, thinking of asking for a special verse but I was scared I would come across one about death. In fact, I quickly happened across the one I’d found on the day of Rachel’s death, “The Lord will lead us, even unto death.” I was not comforted though I was the day she died. I did not particularly think that verse was for me in my current circumstances but I felt a bit more panic. I don’t want to know what is going to happen unless it’s good news as I understand it, I realized. I don’t need to know what will happen, I just need peace.

So I shut my Bible. I went straight to my knees and asked for peace, then started to sing. I often feel ill-equipped for trust and hope and optimism but I follow my mom’s instructions, perhaps more than she knows, and she has often instructed me to sing if I am feeling gloomy or afraid. My voice wobbled a little but I thought, “not too bad.”

Isaac was snuggled at my side. “I am much better than you,” he said. I thought about snapping something about being rude but questioned him instead. “How are you much better?”

My song is much better,” he said, then bellowed out a verse straight from his heart, not a hymnal. “My God is so big, bigger than any problem,” he sang loudly. “See?”

“I love your song,” I said.

A few minutes later he said, “I want to pray for our baby.” He has never prayed for our baby in the middle of the day. I looked at my watch. My midwife had told me my side effects should be gone any minute. I gratefully shut my eyes and waited. “Please help our baby grow strong and healthy,” Isaac said.

That’s how it’s done, I thought, short and sweet and confident. My fear drained largely away. The troubling physical side effects disappeared and have stayed away. God trumps Google any day!

I love how God can use the most uneducated, the smallest and the least.”He preached you a sermon, didn’t he?” Joe said later after he’d awakened and heard the story. He really did. If Isaac can preach a sermon, maybe I can too. My child’s God is awesome!