Thanksgiving has always been a rather funny concept to me. On the one hand, I think it’s beautiful that our country sets aside a day simply to remind one another that we have so very much to be thankful for. On the other hand, our country HAS to set aside a day simply to remind us that we have so very much to be thankful for. See what I mean?
I literally just read a friend’s post on Facebook that gave me a pretty good laugh. In the post, said friend is clutching to a golden wrapped Honey Baked Ham for dear life and her post reads,
“If you haven’t waited in line for an hour with a bunch of angry, impatient, thankful people, you just really haven’t experienced Thanksgiving. No wonder it’s wrapped in gold. #honeybakedhamordie”
And as funny as that post is, (because it is seeped in so much reality), here is the harsh truth, I am just like everybody else.
I am so prone to be so very, very, thankless.
And this MUST be SO true about me, because God not only gave me a national holiday for remembrance, but He also gave me one of the greatest personal holidays as well; the birth of our son Beau. Never again will a Thanksgiving pass me by without that piercing sword and that wonderful whisper of our Christ….“Be Thankful…always.”
“Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” -1 Thessalonians 5:18
“Enter His gates with Thanksgiving and His courts with praise; give thanks to Him and praise His name.” -Psalm 100:4
Last year, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, my very pregnant self took my (then) 16 month old son for a “walk” along the river behind our house. I say “walk” because what it actually entailed was more of a waddle while I carried our son a majority of the way, because, again, he was only 16 months old…. And sure enough, you guessed it, during our waddle this mama began to feel those oh so familiar pains that I had experienced, again, only 16 MONTHS PRIOR (ok, I’ll stop beating a dead horse-you get it.) So, I turned right around and waddled River right back up to our house, promptly put him down for a nap, jumped in the bath, and waited for the contractions to subside. I mean, I was still TWO WHOLE WEEKS away from my due date… so this couldn’t possibly be real labor….(said every woman who has gone into real labor before their due date)…
However, the contractions did subside.
…until a few hours later when they picked up again.
…and then, of course, again subsided.
It was at about 3:30am on Thanksgiving Day 2014 that I awoke from a deep sleep with the big boys; the real contractions. My heart began to beat fast because I knew, this time, it was show time. “Oh my gosh….” I thought, “…our baby is going to be born on Thanksgiving…how amazing is that…” as I drew, yet again, another bath.
And it WAS amazing! 2014 had been SUCH a hard year for us. There had been some weird job things that had happened, some unfortunate friend things that had happened, Nan had died, my dog PennyLane had died, we were creating new friendships, but, like anything that is worth it, it was slow moving at first. 2014 was just marked by Robert and I feeling really…..alone. But, funny as it may sound, sitting alone in that bathtub at 3:30am, every one of those contractions felt like God shouting “I haven’t forgotten you! I haven’t gone anywhere! Here I AM!” And, I kid you not, I felt gratitude with every. single. damn. one. Because I knew it was true.
At about 3:45am I woke Robert to come and time my contractions, and within the hour we were driving to the hospital.
Here is where it gets slightly unfortunate.
When we got to the hospital, and the nurse checked me, I was only at 3 cm dilated….and I needed to be at 5 cm for them to admit me….soooo I WALKED THE HOSPITAL FOR TWO STRAIGHT HOURS. LOL Robert and I were dyinggggg. But, somehow, we found our way into the hospital’s prayer room, and the two of us spent the entirety of those two hours praying with one another as I labored. I will never forget that.
When our death sentence was over (as in the walking for two hours, not the praying),
we I waddled back up to the Labor & Delivery floor, and Hallelujah! I was 6 cm and they admitted me!
For the next 4 hours, I walked, and walked, and walked some more. You’d think after basically my Tour de Hospital I would have reclined a bit, but no. I pretty much labored my entire time standing up. Call me crazy, but something inside me just kept saying that gravity was my best ally.
With every contraction I would stop, hold on to Robert for dear life, close my eyes, and suddenly, I kid you not, this image of Jesus standing in the door way would be there. Call it cheesy, call it “Christiany”, call it trite, call it whatever you please…but it was nothing I conjured up. This wasn’t one of my “visualization techniques” to get me through the pain….it was simply just Him, Jesus, His very palpable presence, standing there, reminding me again that He hadn’t gone anywhere; that He was with Robert and I every single step of the way.
And so at 10:37am on Thanksgiving Day, our son Beau David made his way into the world.
What a celebration that day was. Robert and I heard over and over how blessed we were to have a child born on THANKSGIVING of all days. The nurses swooped in a out to see the “Thanksgiving boy”. Grammy and PaPa brought River to the hospital, along with an entire Thanksgiving feast, and the first thing River did upon meeting Beau for the first time, was kiss his baby brother on the head.
Son, we named you Beau David as a blessing and proclamation over your life. Beau, meaning “beautiful” in French, and David meaning “beloved” in Hewbrew, our prayer was and is that your life would be beautiful and beloved before God and your fellow man. In your first year of life we have seen this prayer answered, and we cannot wait to see how graciously God will unfold our prayer in the years to come.
We love and are so very very thankFILLED for you.
Mom and Dad