Praise

In church this morning, I felt this constant cup-running over joy and gratitude... we were back, Sophia was healing perfectly from surgery four weeks ago, we were once again surrounded by our friends, and God was speaking to me - through the hymns, the prayers, the readings, through Sophia, and as always, through His calming presence. As I was singing this morning's psalm, I felt a strong urge to share how truly blessed I am. What if, by sharing what God has done for me, I might help others to feel His presence in their lives and to feel the deep gratitude that I feel? What a thought! Truthfully though, I felt the need to share it with myself first, because I forget. I complain, I worry, I stress out, I envy, I take for granted. I pray this blog allows me to remember, to cherish, to revel in my blessings and most of all, to praise and thank the Lord. I pray that anyone who reads it might see what He has done for me...

Psalm 66:7-18
7 Bless our God, you peoples;
make the voice of his praise to be heard;
8 Who holds our souls in life,
and will not allow our feet to slip.
9 For you, O God, have proved us;
you have tried us just as silver is tried.
10 You brought us into the snare;
you laid heavy burdens upon our backs.
11 You let enemies ride over our heads; we went through fire and water;
but you brought us out into a place of refreshment.
12 I will enter your house with burnt offerings and will pay you my vows,
which I promised with my lips and spoke with my mouth when I was in trouble.
13 I will offer you sacrifices of fat beasts with the smoke of rams;
I will give you oxen and goats.
14 Come and listen, all you who fear God,
and I will tell you what he has done for me.
15 I called out to him with my mouth,
and his praise was on my tongue.
16 If I had found evil in my heart,
the Lord would not have heard me;
17 But in truth God has heard me;
he has attended to the voice of my prayer.
18 Blessed be God, who has not rejected my prayer,
nor withheld his love from me.

I don't know who, if anyone will read this blog. So, I will start with the one event that brought me back to the Lord - the birth of my daughter.

Sophia was born in June 2005, after a long 41.5 week, totally uncomplicated, joyful pregnancy. I was twenty-seven years old, my husband of five years and I were perfectly healthy, and we took for granted that our daughter would be healthy. I can't say that during my entire pregnancy, I ever doubted that I would have a perfectly normal, healthy baby.

I was induced, because there was no sign that Sophia would ever come out on her own (almost 42 weeks, not a single contraction, and in the words of my OB "sealed up tight as a ship!") After fourteen hours of labor, the nurse came in and told me that I had to lie on my back, because the baby's heart rate was dropping when I was on my side. She called Dr. Taylor, my wonderful OB. He studied the baby's heart rate intently and told me to try pushing. I was still completely unconcerned, and assumed that I was on the verge of delivering a healthy baby girl - I was more excited than I probably had ever been and couldn't wait to get the show on the road. But after several pushes, I saw in Dr. Taylor's eyes that he was worried. He told me to only push every third contraction, and between pushes he watched the baby's heart rate intently. After two and a half hours (I will always be thankful that he stayed with me the entire time, and he never once mentioned a c-section!), Dr. Taylor said that the baby might come out blue and limp, and that the NICU nurses would be ready to take her if needed. At that very moment, everything changed. I knew that everything was in God's hands. Everything. In probably a thirty-second time period, I felt more dread, yearning, peace and most of all, humility, than in my entire life up to that point. I pushed one more time, and Sophia was born - and instantly SCREAMED. It was the loudest, healthiest, most beautiful scream - it filled my whole heart with joy and gratitute. As I caught the quickest glimpse of her between my legs, before they whisked her to the warming table, I saw something on her chest. Dr. Taylor said something about a birthmark. But it didn't sink in, I didn't really "notice" - I was too busy listening to her scream. I just kept thanking God that she was breathing, that she was pink, that she was alive, that she was screaming, and the world was right. I knew my life from that point forward was His. Of course it was always His, I was just too arrogant to know it before then. I will write more, another day, about our journey since that day.

Thank you, Lord, for opening my eyes to Your glory; for slowing Sophia's heart to remind me to be thankful.