There are a million things I’m afraid of, and I’m pretty sure some new thing is added to the list every day. Thanks to the internet I can know about every single freak accident that occurs in the world. And suddenly I’m afraid of chemicals in my sun block while at the same time afraid of skin cancer. I’m afraid of BPA in my canned organic tomatoes and afraid of pesticides on regular tomatoes. Not to mention my filling from 5th grade is probably giving me cancer as we speak, and if it isn’t then the electromagnetic field from my cell phone certainly is. There is always something new to be afraid of.
Today was no exception. We had our big ultrasound, the one where they check to be sure everything is where it’s supposed to be. I was anxious, especially since this time I have an anterior placenta and can’t feel nearly as many kicks as I could with my two previous pregnancies. But I had a lot of people praying for a calm heart, and God provided just that. I loved watching you on the screen, your ten toes and ten little fingers. The dominoes of your spine and that precious heart beating fast and strong. I’m staring at your picture right now. I can’t believe that, Lord willing, in just twenty short weeks we will meet you. You had your legs crossed just like your big sisters helping keep the surprise until November.
The nasty thing about fear is that it never goes away. It’s always there. It’s just whether I choose to stare at the thing I’m so afraid of or whether I choose to stare at the One who is bigger than my fear. The One who holds me in the palm of His hand, just as I hold this baby in my womb. There are a million new things to be afraid of today and even more tomorrow. I can choose to go to Google and stare at those things or I can go to the Word and stare at Him.
I praise you for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. As I watched her check the individual chambers of your heart and count each tiny toe, I felt those words. Maybe we were created to fear, but we’re fearing the wrong thing. Maybe instead of fearing sickness and pain and tragedy which threaten to paralyze me, I can shift my eyes to the One who creates miracles. To the One who organizes billions of cells into tiny eyelashes and fingernails, who fashions a beating heart and a brain and a spine into nine little ounces of wonder. To the only One who can bestow a soul and a God-sized purpose. Fearfully and wonderfully made.
For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.