“The Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will delight over you with gladness. With His love He will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.” -Zephaniah 3:17
Wednesday night was an experience of love unlike any I could have prepared for. It was also the most painfully intense event of my life. But it was the pain that made the love more profound. I sit looking at my amazing little son sleeping with his face toward me, his little hand up next to his face. When I hold him and feel him move in my arms, I can’t help but think of how his little legs felt moving inside me just a day ago.
About midway through my pregnancy I made the decision to try a
natural childbirth. Edwin and I prayed about it, and both of us felt it was the way the Lord was leading us to go. Switching doctors’ offices three times (which
meant I had 7 doctors and 2 nurse practitioners taking care of me and the in-utero Josiah over the past 9 months) added a significant challenge to the decision to go natural. But God provided several people in my path who had natural experiences to learn from, as well as a new friend who is a midwife missionary in Ethiopia. Their wisdom and advice helped guide me through. Then the Lord showed his provision of support yet again when the nurse who came on for the night shift introduced herself and added, “I heard you want to do this naturally. I delivered three babies naturally.” She was a true gift from the Lord throughout labor, and I knew she was an answer to my prayers.
My amazing husband and mother served as my birth coaches. They were truly wonderful. Their support spoke volumes of their love for me. Their encouragement and prayerful spirits carried me through. Bringing my own son into the world I was flanked on my left by my mother, 
the woman whose love became more real and deep to me that night; and my husband, whose love and commitment to me came through with his every action and word. In the halls of the hospital my labor pains were prayed over and through by the unceasing prayers of my devoted father. Through it 
all we were bound by our love for the young one we had not yet met. We were all intently committed to bring Josiah into the world.
Yet through it all came the incredibly rich and precious love of my heavenly Father, whose pursuing love struck me with a new sense of awe. Our labor and delivery room was filled with praise music throughout labor. The music we had playing was a compilation of some of my favorite worship music. Some of the tunes were songs that have meant something to me at other hard times of my life. Rocking through contractions, their lyrics again reached into the recesses of my heart to deliver kisses from my Father to my soul. He again was saying to my deepest parts, “I have always pursued you, Amy, and today I am working in you to pursue your little one. As I’ve knitted him in you, I have looked forward to bringing him into this world through you. I am with you. I love you.” I wept in the labor room as my spirit heard and dwelled on the closeness of my Father and Lord.
As labor intensified, I needed to draw from that spiritual reality and feeling, for it was from that that I would sustain my strength to deliver Josiah. His birth was extremely difficult. His head was turned face up, (called transverse; babies need to be born face down to help them move easily past the pelvis and through the birth canal). SKIP to the next paragraph if you want to be spared a few gross details. What would have been a fairly easy time pushing became almost impossibly difficult as with each contraction and push, the nurse, and later the doctor, had to push against my cervix to clear the way for Josiah’s head so they could turn his head to get him through the canal.
Truly, it was only the strength of God that helped me push into and past that pain. Edwin prayed a beautiful prayer for strength right there in the delivery room. Everyone was encouraging me on, and finally Josiah slipped through and came to meet the world. I later found out that God had answered even more of my prayers about the natural birth choice, when I discovered that my doctor was the only one of the OBGYN doctors in this town who would have turned Josiah’s head; all the others would have just gone straight to surgery for a cesarean. Praise God! I had unknowingly chosen not only a fun and encouraging doctor (this man makes pregnant women feel like they’re heroes!), but the only doctor in the area whose expertise and skill would make it possible for my precise birthing situation to occur and still deliver a baby naturally!
Josiah wasn’t born painlessly, or ideally, or even without complications. He was having trouble breathing at first. But the team that was built on God’s love and sustained through our love for each other pushed through it, and Josiah Laurenciana Samson was born at 12:10 a.m., Thursday, September 10, 2009. He weighed 7 lbs., 4 oz., and measures 20 inches. He is feeding and sleeping well, and all his doctor’s checkups have been fine. Not only that, but his momma is doing well. Even from yesterday I am feeling significantly less sore.
During that pushing stage, I questioned my decision to deliver naturally. “What was I thinking!?” I kept asking myself, to which I had to respond, “There’s no going back now! You HAVE to do this!” What I didn’t realize then was that everyone in that room (including, at times, myself), was thinking that that labor may end in a C-section. I didn’t know my doctor was doing what many others wouldn’t. At first, I didn’t even know my son’s head was upside down. But what I realize now in retrospect is that God’s hand was in this labor from the decision to deliver naturally. Because although I do not stand in judgment of anyone who chooses an epidural, many epidural births that are difficult, like mine, end up in C-section because they do not leave the woman enough feeling to push with the fortitude to get the baby through. That is simply a side-effect of the drug. What I know now is that the Lord was guiding me to deliver naturally because by doing so, although it meant a tremendously hard labor, I did not end up in surgery. For some mothers surgery is not bad. But for me it would have been a very sad and disappointing end to a long and discouraging pregnancy. Because the Lord knew my heart’s desire, He was loving me by giving me the more painful route.
THE LORD LOVED ME BY GIVING ME MORE PAIN.
What a paradox. And I sing His praises for it. Through the night of September 9, 2009, I endured an agony that drilled into my being a hole that was filled by love, first from my heavenly Father, and subsequently the love of my husband, mother, and father, and finally, my own love for them and for my son. And finally, in the very early morning of September 10, 2009, that love took root in the newest addition to our family. He sleeps now on the chest of his doting father, 
for whom my love has grown leaps and bounds just in the last two days. And we together love him, our gift from God and newest adventure in love and pain, our Josiah.
This is our prayer for Josiah:
“Josiah did what was right in the eyes of the LORD and walked in the ways of his father David, not turning aside to the right or to the left.” -2 Chronicles 34:2
(Incidentally, Josiah means, “God will save.”)
“Soon and very soon,” she sings, reminding me of the Lord who is mine, the One whose holiness and righteousness will come in fullness one day. On that day I’ll be in the humble posture of one saved, one rescued. And I imagine that my eyes will be lifted to His face of peace and infinite love, and I’ll be unable to remove my gaze; and in that place My Lord’s eyes will tell me to rest in the joyful satisfaction of being in His presence. In the presence of the King of Kings, I will know that I am cherished, adored, loved. I have been pursued, and there, I will be captured forever.
There have been many thoughts racing through my pregnant mind lately, although it has been hard to focus on anything longer than a few minutes. A very precious point of pondering has been the joy of raising a lover of Christ. I have long awaited motherhood, even seeing it as a calling. In all honesty, the feeling of being called to this has lately been replaced by the fears I’ve felt of being the one responsible for this little life. Perhaps at least equal with that fear has been the selfish anxiety of not ever knowing life as I have known it: I will no longer be looked after, but will be the one looking after; I will no longer have the freedom and ease of late nights of quiet contemplation and late mornings in my bed, but trade those in for late nights with a wee one whose stomach will cry for my breasts; I will be inescapably bound to his needs. And yet, when I think of being needed in such a way, the anxiety seems to drown in the selfish thoughts that are forgiven by my God and whitewashed with His limitless love that He transplants into my being: I embrace the self-sacrificial embodiment of the Lord Jesus Christ, as One whose own breast has nursed me in my weakness, m
y weariness, and my sorrows to bring me to Life in Him, where I can eat the meat of His Word and know His presence in relationship. That is the joy of motherhood that awaits me…and that is the joy of trusting Jesus that I lean into. That resting in Jesus Christ I can imitate Him as a mother, reflect Him as a guardian, be like Him as a provider and sustainer of life.
And here I reflect that “soon and very soon” I will be a mother. If he comes on time, it will be in 6 days. At 2 1/2 cm dilated and 80% effaced, perhaps it will be sooner. My little boy, my Josiah, in my arms, suckling at my breast, bathed and clothed by my tender hands, kissed by my gentle lips, cooing in my ear, my little one. Is this the way in which God has anticipated each one of us? Is this the way He has awaited our dependence on His very Presence? What a lesson embracing motherhood has become for embracing the likeness of my Lord. He is infinitely and perfectly loving and gentle, tender and strong, the Sustainer of all things. He has passed on that role physically to me, and I welcome the challenges that are before me as I strive to imitate Him, because in them I will know more profoundly the riches of growing to be like Him.
For the Lord your God is living among you.
He is a mighty savior.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
With his love, he will calm all your fears.
He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.
-Zephaniah 3:17
I will comfort you there in Jerusalem
as a mother comforts her child.
-Isaiah 66:13
Oh, Thank you, Jesus.
This, thankfully, seems to be the theme of my prayers lately. I am so glad to be feeling the rest of almost two weeks in our current home. It is as if water has been washing off the stresses of moving so much during pregnancy, and I am here, enjoying the many advantages that knowing where you’re going to have your child brings.
Advantage one: I know which hospital he will be born in.
Advantage two: I know who his doctor is (although Edwin won’t meet him until Friday).
Advantage three: Many of my many questions about birthing at this hospital with this doctor are getting answered.
Advantage four: We finally have a stroller/carseat for Josiah, which means he can actually come home from the hospital with us.
Advantage five: I am officially full-term (37-40 weeks is considered full-term), which means if I have my baby early, we are in a settled place.
Advantage six: I get to enjoy the benefits of having my dog around.
Advantage seven: I’m getting caught up on things I never should have gotten backed up on.
etc., etc., etc.!
Thank you, Jesus, indeed.
My baby is coming. I was telling Edwin today that I have spent a lifetime (literally…I probably had my first babydoll at like age 1) looking forward to Josiah. This pregnancy, though, has had so many ups and downs that I have often lost touch with that dream. But today, I was refreshed with something stirring inside me. Today, as he kicked, closer to the size of a “real baby” now than he has been at any point so far (websites say at 34 weeks he could be already 20 inches and around 5 pounds), I wistfully imagined myself snuggling into his little neck, his baby breath and sweet soft cheek pressed against my own. I was wisked in that moment into reality a few weeks from now, and I was so at peace in the dream of it.
I have been through the emotions, all normal, of pregnancy: the highs and lows that range from “oh yea, praise God, I’m pregnant!” to “oh. my. gosh. I’m pregnant” to “I feel so gross…but yea…I’m pregnant…the morning sickness will pass…so they say…” to “I feel better…but oh crap! I’m going to be a mom!” to “really? Can I do this?” to “I have two months left, I had better think about a birth plan…BIRTH PLAN!? AGH!” to “Can I really do this?” to “I’m going to be a mommy…sigh…fear…sigh…” to “I’m going to be a mommy…sigh…sweet joy…sigh…anticipation.” All of these emotions have woven, at interchanging moments of this pregnancy, in and out of circumstances such as: the extreme fatigue of early pregnancy and being sick with several severe colds in the midst of the exhaustion, a broken foot that developed into tendinitis, moving in the midst of sciatica (and broken foot), crossing the country by car at 6 months pregnant, moving into a temporary summer community that turned out to be the most blessed place on the planet, preparing to leave that place, saying good-bye to sweet church family, saying hello to family trials, getting counseling with and apart from Edwin (and dealing, alongside him, with the wounds, scars, and healing that comes from such counsel), seeing a total of 7 different doctors in three different offices in three different states, praying over (because that’s all we can do!) impending medical bills while we yet have no income, anticipating moving one month before our due date and figuring out all the logistics of where we’re going to have our son and how our “birth plan” will fit into our new doctor’s and new hospital’s procedures, getting all the remaining baby stuff we need for a newborn, and feeling secure and stable enough in my parents’ home to not feel like an imposition for the next few months (as well as maintain a sense of autonomy as a couple with a new child). Whew.
Ultimately, I feel truly blessed. Although there are definitely different ways we could live this life, we know we’re living it the way God is leading us. That leaves us to truly desire no other alternative to this one, despite the transitory reality that we live. We are so thankful for the home we’re going to in Mississippi. My parents are an answer to prayer in a time of need. We are humbled by our dependence on them for the next few months. Somehow, I can’t but see that that is a part of this journey God is taking us on. There seems to be a theme running right now of our letting go of ways of doing things, ways that have caused us to lean on our own understanding, work ethic, and financial resources; toward leaning and trusting in the raw.
And to this raw skin and spirit, my baby’s sweet soft skin will feel like refreshing rain. I may just need him more than he needs me. My dream come true. My answer to prayer. My Josiah.
My heart has lain in a vast dry desert,
the hard, lifeless ground
parched by the pounding sun,
beaten into a flat sphere that stretches
into eternity,
it seems.
Isolation and loneliness
have been my companions
in this land of no direction.
The sun perpetually at high noon,
determined
to dry every drop of life-giving fluid.
Yet in the midst of this endlessness,
You rained down water
over my aching, shriveled heart.
Life-giving mercy flowed
down from heaven in
the place where I lay.
Around me still was dry and stiff and stale,
but on my perch of desert
grass began to grow,
my heart’s slight palpitations
were strengthened to
strong beating.
And in the middle of that miserable wasteland,
there came a faint calling to my ears,
as if other isolated hearts were
crying out in thirst.
Would my rain follow me
if I left my now lush parcel
of earth?
Looking to heaven,
the source of saving water,
there came a peace in my
bewilderment–the Water
would follow,
even as I stepped from springy
green
to hard brown ground.
My heart skipped a beat
with my first step from
safety and blessing–would
blessing follow?
But my fears were put out
like fire in a deluge,
for when both feet stood
firmly strong on the old familiar
coarse desert sand,
the water–it must be
Living–poured out,
bringing forth blades
of new life on the desert beneath.
With each step grew
the sound of those faint heart-cries,
until, step after step of
walking in the Living Water,
I found one,
parched and shriveled
as I had once lain.
And as I stood near it,
some of the Living Water
that flowed over my heart
splashed onto the
dried heart.
Over time–I do not know how long–
I began to understand the beating of
that heart,
and in the Life-giving Waters,
we
lost our loneliness.
From there, we sought out the
cries of other parched hearts,
leaving a trail of lush ground
behind us, for
even after leaving a plot of ground,
the Living Water left signs of having been there.
Some shriveled hearts found the trail,
and drank from the Water
on the ground, given enough strength
to follow.
Finding us, we could hear their hunger
to be filled with the Living Water,
and as they sought in their thirst,
they were filled, their
faint palpitations turning into
beatings of fulfillment.
Some hearts heard cries we
did not hear, and they
sought them,
followed by Living Water.
Yet in the separation of revived
hearts,
the Living Water never grew less.
Instead, we could see
from where we stood in the
lushness of the Water’s
pouring,
that where there was once endless
desert of brown lifelessness,
there now was a land
of green watered fields,
flowers blooming in the
partnership of sun and Water.
What was once
endless dryness,
killing slowly the hearts of
Creation,
is now a land of plenty,
nourishing those
same hearts.
Blessed be the Living Water!
“Whoever believes in me [Jesus], as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’” -John 7:38
Just
simply
overwhelmed.
That seems to be the theme of my life these days. I begin to wonder, “Am I just really easily overwhelmable?” In my efforts to not turn everything into a negative directed towards myself, which contributes to depression and is just unpleasant overall, I’m trying to think of other options for why “overwhelmed” seems to be the most common feeling in my life lately. Perhaps I’ve been overwhelmed a lot because of all the changes that have been happening in life over the past 6 months…like, say: pregnancy (which is rife with changes from day one…and then brings the most wonderful and frightening life change of all…a child!), saying good-bye to friends from the last three years, meeting new friends who we’ll be saying good-bye to in a month, family drama that is resulting in a divorce, bracing ourselves for the most challenging life adjustment thus far—moving to the Philippines (which will have a whole new set of changes and challenges all its own).
I’m trying not to focus on the challenges of the move to the Philippines. Let’s just focus on getting your son into the world, I tell myself. And I am so looking forward to the joy of Josiah. In many ways I see his expected entrance as a happy and welcome break to the monotony of saying good-bye. Finally, my baby, the one I have prayed so long for. The one I have longed for since I could hold a baby doll. He’ll be here in ten weeks (hopefully not before…I’m not ready).
We’re doing this project at CIT called “History Giving.” It’s basically telling your life story. I thought it would be so fun, but as I prepare, I am in a constant state of melancholy. Why? Because I am reminded that my life has been full of good-byes. I have never lived in any one community longer than 5 years, and as an adult that number is even lower: 3 years. Even the three-year experience wasn’t really in one community, because it was during that span that I was married, which comes with a whole new set of refreshing, culture shocking, difficult, rewarding challenges.
Whenever I write something like this I feel as if I have to counter it with positive thinking, like, “With every good-bye there has been a whole new set of adventurous and lovely hellos!” While that’s true, it’s also an almost sickening pill to swallow in my emotional state right now. I picture the words coming out of the mouth of a 1950’s housewife with blond perfect hair and high heels and a poofy skirt, holding a tray of freshly baked cookies and smiling with sparkling clean teeth. I want to slap her.
Breathe. Relax your shoulders. Accept: you will not always feel positive about the changes you’re facing. Accept: you don’t have to find the “Miss Happy” voice every time you’re processing difficult things. Accept: today is today and tomorrow is tomorrow; today does not have to interpret tomorrow, nor tomorrow, today. This is ok. Accept it.
Spiritually, as I process and encounter these emotions, some negative, some positive, some neutral, I am encouraged by the presence of Jesus. When I start to tear up that I really don’t know where “home” is, He reminds me that it’s ok, because I have a Home waiting for me, and it will be the same for eternity. There is a joy I have in the somber thought that while I don’t know an earthly home, neither did my dear Jesus. I’m thankful for the longing that calls me out of staying sedentary and draws me into adventurous things…the very calling that has repeatedly led me to many good-byes, and thus on to people and places I am so thankful to have known.
As I look through my “history,” I am required to see where God has been working. The exercise gives me confidence and faith that forever He’ll me wooing me to something more. And what I have to come to terms with, and deal with each time I find myself in a day like today, is that it is worth it to be called away from the semblances of “home” I create for myself; that living in pursuit of Jesus’ footsteps is well worth the seasons of being overwhelmed. Perhaps I am “overwhelmable,” but that is simply because there is something in that quality that Jesus wants me to see in my relationship with Himself: in being overwhelmable, I am thankfully overwhelmed…by Him.
During a recent time in the Word I came across the familiar story of the fall of Jericho. In brief, the unlikely desert-weary people of Israel bring down the walls of Jericho, a city of power that would have threatened God’s people as they settled in the Promised Land. But the conquest happens in a most unusual way, and would have been utterly impossible without the LORD on Israel’s side. In life we can become overwhelmed by our circumstances; sometimes worry over our finances consumes us, or we feel defeated by poor health, or perhaps we are weary of relational issues that never seem to heal. If we try to conquer any trouble without the power of the LORD we will inevitably fail. At best, we will only merely survive. But when the LORD goes before us, as we see in the defeat of Jericho, the victory in Him leads to breakthrough in us.
Before the people of Israel entered the Promised Land, God promised that he would give them the land (Joshua 1:2), and that he would be with them as they went (v 9). But the land was full of pagan peoples who would put up a fight. The first city to be conquered was Jericho, a city with high walls that had been shut up because the people in it feared the God of Israel. Why did these pagan people fear a God they did not worship? They feared him because they had heard of his mighty works (2:10-11). Before Israel even entered the Promised Land, God’s reputation had gone before them.
Before entering Jericho, God instructed Joshua, Israel’s leader, to march around the city once a day for six days. Each march consisted of a fanfare of trumpets that blew in proclamation of the ark of the covenant of the LORD. Priests surrounded the ark, and went forward blowing trumpets, while before and behind them marched the fighting men of Israel. On those six days of marching, no other sounds were heard from Israel except the sounds of the trumpets.
In our American culture, where doing is valued higher than being, we can tend to get ahead of the Lord. We can learn a valuable lesson from the conquest of Jericho. For six days God had Israel doing something that seemed unproductive. But when we step back, we can see the spiritual significance: God was going before the people. In my imagination, I see a vast army of angels chipping away at the walls of Jericho, weakening the defenses of the city. When the power of God goes before us, the “walls” of our lives (health, relationships, finances, spiritual warfare, you fill in the blank…) are weakened in his power, not ours.
On the seventh day God delivered Jericho into the hands of Israel. The people marched around the city the same as the six days before. But this time they marched seven times, and on the seventh time, when the priests blew the trumpets, the people were ordered, “Shout! For the LORD has given you the city” (6:16). At the blast of the trumpets and the shout of the people, the walls fell flat.
In my own life, I have tried and failed repeatedly to solve my own problems and defeat my own enemies. But the lesson of Jericho’s fall teaches me to step back and let God fight my battles. This is counterintuitive, especially in our culture, when we think we know what will “solve” the issue(s) at hand. But prayer is truly the only way to see God’s glory go before us and bring the victory.
Just recently, as Edwin and I have been fundraising to go to the mission field, we were challenged to ask for a specific pledge (I seriously do not write this for pledges but to glorify God in the way he went before for us and provided). We asked boldly for a donor to give $1000 a month! We laughed even as we prayed it (perhaps like Sarah when she found out she would have a child in her old age). We knew no one in our lives could afford such a commitment. Nevertheless, we prayed it. The following Sunday a stranger (to us then) came to our church, heard of our mission, and pledged $1000 a month! We were blown away! Immediately we began praising God for the way he went before us! I am not saying that when we “claim” something we perceive as good (like material things or even health), that we will automatically get that. What I am saying is that when we trust God to go ahead of us, even when that means we don’t do things that may seem productive (like it would have seemed productive for the Israelites to begin attacking Jericho as soon as they approached the city; or it may have seemed productive for Edwin and I to start calling potential $1000 donors after our prayer), then our waiting becomes an opportunity to watch God be who he is, our Savior, Provider, Healer, Friend. Is there somewhere in your life where you need God to go before you? He gives you a command and a promise: “Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the LORD your God is with you wherever you go” (1:9).
Today I sent my husband off to his ordination “hearing” with a banana. He said he wasn’t hungry and I insisted he have something to feed his brain.
Later, I read that my baby-in-utero is the size of a large banana, at least, that’s what they say 7 inches and 11 ounces compares to. He can also taste what I eat by now, which means he just had some really good cinnamon toast.
Yesterday I bought a maternity swimsuit. I’m still struggling with all this body changing. I love the belly and the boobs, but the rest of the changes are not so welcome. Really, I’m mostly disappointed that my broken foot has kept me from being active enough to be in better shape. I just keep reminding myself that a) the foot is healing and will be better soon and b) you won’t be prego forever and can run and workout like crazy when this baby boy is born. I’m planning to take advantage of the few months with mom and have required exercise time every day. We’ll see how that goes…I also wanted to be one of those pregnant women who ran 3 miles a day througout her pregnancy. That dream wafted away with the first bout of fatigue somewhere around, um, 3 days after finding out I was pregnant.
Overall I’m thoroughly and fully excited to be pregnant. And if told I could only be pregnant under the same circumstances that have kept me inactive I would do it again. I am so grateful and honored to be incubating this little creature of God. I wonder what he’ll look like. No doubt he’ll have more of his father’s features, which is fine with me. When his daddy and I are cuddling and/or when he does one of his childish expressions, my heart does somersaults as I think of the blessing of having another little boy like his father.
I should get some important things done today, like start sorting things to be packed, shipped, or sold for our move which is now only 3 1/2 weeks away. I think I’m in denial. Are we really leaving our home? Yet I am simultaneously thrilled at the adventure that stretches before us. We not only have the adventure of our firstborn, but the adventure of taking him with us to Asia to love people and bring them into the Kingdom of God. Along the way we get to see America (by virtue of driving across it to get to training) and spend a summer with others who are similarly sacrificing and heading to foreign lands themselves. The cherry is that I get to have my firstborn with my parents with me. Thank you, Lord.
I think in many ways some of the feelings of inadequacy have faded. I think some of that is do to the fact that what we’re going into I know how to do: move, drive across country, spend a summer with Christians learning about and loving Jesus, live in Mississippi. That’s all a buffer for what comes after that, but for that I’m excited, too. For the challenge and joy of going somewhere new and foreign is what I’ve always longed to experience. Although I know the test will be hard, I foresee the joys in it, as well. In many ways, I look forward to the closeness it will bring our family. We’ll go through things together that will knit us together even stronger. And I look forward to seeing the fruit of our work, our love, bringing people to Christ and planting churches and loving people. We could do it here, but God has called us there. There’s something He’s got planned for us there…I’m excited about that something.
So today, praying for Edwin and trusting God’s hold on him, praying for baby boy and trusting God’s future for him, looking around at the many things I have to do to prepare my home to be boxed up, sold, or given away, I trust Jesus to fill the banana I gave Edwin with super brain power, and I trust Him also to fill my little “banana” with all the nutrients to grow into a strong and healthy man of God, just like his father.
