Fast. Slow. Trust.

Every birth is a miracle. If you’re a mom or a dad, you probably have some recollection of the wonder of pregnancy, the excitement of meeting your baby, the long nights, and the deep feelings of loving someone else so much more than you ever dreamed possible.

Then time moves on and you get caught up in everyday life, activities, challenges, and teaching moments. It’s like you have a baby, then you blink and they’re 8 going on 18. And just when you think you’ve got a season of parenting down and you kind of think you know what you’re doing, life changes again and you’re starting all over in a new season. But with the same team. And more hormones.

Life is fast and life is slow. Today, as I get my son ready to start the third grade, I have mixed feelings. I remember having those thoughts of, “Are we ever going to get out of diapers?” “Are we ever going to sleep through the night again???” “Are we ever going to sleep in our own bed again?” The answer is yes. A bittersweet yes. Life is slow sometimes. Our kids need us extra sometimes. This past year, our family made the choice for me to stay home and teach our son because it was what he needed to thrive. Then there are those moments where, developmentally, they learn to fly beautifully and they graduate to the next phase of growth.

Today, I’m sitting here thinking of how fast the time passes and how there were times that I did not treasure the gift of time with my child. Not one bit. But this week, as I watch my son confidently rise to the occasion of starting a new year, I’m wishing time would slow down, just a little. There is part of me that wishes I could keep him at home with me forever.

As I was praying for Andrew and his school, his teacher and his friends, God took me back to His announcement of Andrew’s birth, at a time when the doctors told me I would not be able to have a child. He reminded me that Andrew’s life, along with every child’s life, is a miracle. A gift. He reminded me that he provided confirmation to me 3 times by three different people (all strangers to one another) who said the same thing verbatim about the birth of Andrew. He reminded me of the man and his wife who operated with the gift of prophecy who, without knowing anything of my diagnosis, prayed for my womb after my doctor told me I couldn’t carry a child. Andrew’s birthday on 10/10 serves as a numerical reminder of God’s perfection and completion, signifying that when God makes a promise, he carries out to completion EXACTLY as He said He would.

Then, the Lord took me to the gospel of Luke which documents the life of Jesus, pre-birth to resurrection beginning with the announcement of the promise of Jesus to his mother, Mary. Supernatural promises. Miraculous circumstances. Fast and slow. Mary treasured the promises of God in her heart, and while she did not fully understand the things that would ultimately take place, she took her role seriously. She cooperated in doing her part to prepare her gift, her child, for the world so that He could change it forever.

I don’t know exactly what God has planned for my son, but I remember the miraculous circumstances of his birth, and now all that he is becoming. This year I am recommitting to cooperating with the plans He has for Andrew. They’re so much better than what I could dream up anyway.

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Jessica Gilliam

I'm Jessica. I'm listening. To pen the things that are being impressed on my heart to record and share. To inspire. To lend perspective. To dare others to hope. Perhaps you're on a similar journey. If so, let's run (ok, maybe power-walk) together.

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