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God is with us, and His Presence is life-sustaining.

We are all little image-bearers of Him, and the presence of people can be life-sustaining, also.

Early in BAS, we studied the word midwife, and its root English words, mid (“with”) and wif (“woman”). A midwife is the one who is with the woman, particularly at the time of her labor and delivery. Contrasted against the often cooler efficiency of western medicine (however excellent and good-hearted the care), the midwife is a mark of presence, patience. She waits through labor with the mother anxious to deliver. She comforts, encourages, assists (all the while monitoring and intervening when necessary). In natural, uncomplicated labor, everyone just has to wait. Progress will come, but not according to anyone’s schedule. But waiting together with someone (especially someone informed and adept) matters. So in India, we were, most of all, present while our cast-off women labored otherwise alone.

Waiting with them. Waiting for life to arrive.

Is there anything you are waiting for? Is it something agonizing? Is it something you don’t anticipate seeing the fruition of this-side-of-Heaven? What is your hope?

Are you waiting with someone in their labor? In their pain and unknown? What is your encouragement?

These are non-rhetorical questions. I haven’t been in the mode of interactive blogging, but I’d love to have some conversation of encouragement here.

 

The Lord is just in all His doings. The Lord is near to all who call on Him, to all who call on Him in truth. -Psalm 145:17-18

Can you trust Him to be doing something good? Can you call on Him in humility and receive His tender nearness? Can you lean heavy against Him as you wait for the delivery of life? The midwife if  He is with you, too.

 

Anna is teaching me more than ever about need. About presence of Mother. Proximity. About dependency.

You would think, by child #6, this wouldn’t seem so new, but I’m telling you: everything is different. Most of all, Mother is different.

To have seen “normal” through the eyes of a first-timer, clueless about everything… then navigating the place of pre-birth loss… then “normal” in the context of  all-things-provided, but with a “sensory” child… then being swept over & nearly drowned by “trauma-parenting”… then being saturated with God’s perspective of life, birth, mother-child-relationship… to becoming pregnant again as a completely blindsiding disruption of (our) lives…

Most everything about this mother’s perspective is different.

So here is this tiny person. Perfectly made. Precious beyond comprehension. Seen from before first breath.

Utterly dependent.

Obviously. She doesn’t come out without a big push forward. She doesn’t breathe without a little stimulation. She doesn’t get nourishment without someone bigger, equipped to provide. She doesn’t stay warm, doesn’t get cleaned up, doesn’t survive without love, without the giving of another. Again, and again, and again.

And this little lady with her tiny cries (that are growing with her) tells me as clear as day that she needs proximity. She’s not to be left alone. She’s not supposed to be cold yet. Not supposed to be left to hunger, to be dirty, to be exposed. She’s not equipped yet, to respond to the stressors of life, to calm herself, to feel safe.

(Have I seen all of this before? In both 6-lb babies ignorant of everything, and in 100-lb babies that saw it all broken down and torn right away?)

I heard her, clear as day, in those early weeks before she could comprehend anything. “Momma!” And you bet this momma came. No cry-it-out around here. Not until there is developmental capability to begin practicing self-soothing. Not until those neural pathways have developed, learned how to calm down, to regulate, to trust.

So days and nights can feel long, and I can feel worn right down. But my interpretation of these circumstances is different. And I’m keenly aware that these days are passing ever-so-quickly, and they’re almost certainly my last go-’round with this particular season of wonder.

 

She’ll learn to communicate with words, and then screaming won’t work anymore.

She’ll learn to walk, and won’t be carried around anymore.

She’ll learn to survive and eventually navigate solitude and independence, and won’t be so hurried-to anymore.

But we need to know, and we know it right from the beginning when parenting submits to the ways of God: We are the precious ones of our Father. He is not inattentive. He is not far away. The Lord is near to all who call upon Him. To all who call upon Him in truth. (Psalm 145:18)

Now you’d better believe if we scream for Him then push away when He comes, we won’t have the same snuggles as if we relax and rest. It’ll feel more like being restrained and forced than held (yes, this is how many, many, many hugs have felt to some of ours whose “love” concept was so broken). And you’d better believe that if we cry out in our miserably dirtiness and then kick around in our mess instead of let Him just clean us up it’ll get a lot uglier before it gets fresh and clean.

Can we just remember that He always hears when we cry the right cry? The right cry simply being a truth-knowing “I need You.” That our mess is as good as gone, as soon as we confess we need a clean-up and can’t do it ourselves? Can we remember that, even though we’re learning how to sit, walk, jump, perform, compete, think, accomplish, even teach… we still have the profound need that we all started with.

Presence. Proximity. Dependency.

We are small, so small. And He is with us.

Last week our whole family was in Charlotte, NC for a week of next-steps and training with SIM, our long-term missions agency. This was the first visit our children have had to the beautiful SIM campus, and they had a great time. Bob and I love being there, meeting and learning from all the SIM USA staff at the sending base.

We were there as part of a group of 14 individuals and families (that brought a total of 25 children!) training to launch long-term with SIM. They came from all over the States, and are being sent out to 13 different nations over the next months-to-year. It was such a privilege to learn with and from them, as we all encouraged each other in this special time.

One reason we love SIM and believe God has placed us with them long-term is the strength of the organization in their member care. This mission has been around for 124 years, and supports 4,000 ministry workers, of 60+ different ethnicities, to over 70 different nations.  SIM has learned the value of excellent member care for the long-term health and sustainability of missionaries. They want to see God glorified in the spiritual vitality and holistic health of His servants, not just in the external fruit of their work. What a great organization to work with!

We got to spend a little bit of time with the fabulous Ackleys. They (especially Meg) have walked with us and prayed faithfulfully for our family over the past year with YWAM, and all along our process of preparing for full-time work through SIM.

One day the kids (who spent their days at the MK house while we were in meetings and classes) were escorted through the SIM USA office, where they met many home-based missionaries (like the Ackleys!) who are serving from here with their professional skills. They come from backgrounds like IT, security, finance, counseling, medicine, insurance, cross-cultural communications, Human Resources, project management, purchasing, donor relations, and more. Without this support structure behind the field missionaries, much of the global work simply would not be possible. At each office a different staffer would supply the kids with an ingredient (flour, butter, m&ms…), which were toted back to the MK house kitchen where a fabulous pan of monster cookie bars was crafted! What a great illustration of teamwork, unity, and the necessity of a large variety of skills contributed.

It is truly our honor to prepare to serve here with SIM in a supportive role. While we will be going to the field on short trips to any of the 13 nations where Sports Friends ministers, the work of sustaining, strengthening, and expanding the global outreach through the International Support Services staff is ciritical!

After all, where would monster cookies be without chocolate??

 

 

Known, thought, planned, prepared for, and given. Knit together inside the womb of a mother remade. Spoken and breathed in victory of life, hope, joy. Unexpected, misunderstood, miraculous and remarkable. Conceived in Australia, discovered in India, brought forth in the United States.

Anna Michal Joy is delivered. A gift from God, sent to us, to the world.

I was 37 weeks and one day, by calendar dates. Only the Lord knows. I’d had many Braxton Hicks contractions for months. Sunday morning, May 21st, they became regular and progressing in frequency for hours; I had some show. The contractions were not strong enough to be convincing, and eased up when we got moving to go to church (but we threw the birth bag into the back of the truck just-in-case). I was restless all day; nauseated, emotional, miserable. Contractions were sporadic but significant all day. Eli’s baptismal service was that evening; it was beautiful, as they always are. Eli declared his choice to be a disciple of Jesus. So thankful I didn’t have to miss any of that.

From about 10pm Sunday night the contractions came. They were intense, but very spread-apart. They lasted long, but I would begin to doze off between them still. Unconvinced it was labor due to the infrequency, I moaned through the night, waking with each one. It was too painful to lie down. Too painful to stand up. I sat in the rocker for a couple of hours, disrupting Bob’s sleep on the couch (he’d left the bedroom because I was too noisy). So restless. I paced. I took a hot shower. Had 20 minutes of rest. Had a snack. The contractions came harder. I got louder. Trying to wait until morning to call Dr. Ramsey and ask if I could come in when the office opens. Bob is awake by 3:30 and watching me now; asking repeatedly if we should call Mom and go to the hospital. “No- they’re still too far apart,” I tell him. By 4am they’re often quite frequent, but still irregular. I’m trying to breathe. He’s waited long enough and declares it’s time. He calls and wakes Grandma Pegs, and she asks if we can wait 30 minutes til she arrives. “No… we need to go.” We write a note to the kids in case someone comes downstairs after a nightmare.

I’m sitting in the Suburban on a stack of towels (just in case). The 40 minute drive to Women’s Hospital is awful. I start timing the contractions before we get to the end of our street. They are suddenly every 2-4 minutes and lasting for at least 90 seconds. They are intense. I focus on relaxing and breathing through each one. Take bites of applesauce in between them, so thirsty and tired. Bumps in the road are excruciating. We pull up to the hospital at 5:05 am, minutes after the Women’s ER doors open. I think (foolishly) I can walk from the parking lot; Bob has to half-carry me in. I start leaking fluid (or something) during constant-seeming contractions. We get through the doors to the check-in desk. Quick information. A wheelchair now. ER nurses fly into action. Into bed, onto monitor, cervical check: 8cm. “Praise God”… guess this wasn’t all for a measly 5-6cm, like I’d feared. They’re digging for an iv site; I am exhausted, and this “other” pain is too much and I can’t help sobbing. ER doc steps in; calls my obstetrician. The nurses are whisking me down the hall to a delivery room. Dr. Ramsey in blue scrubs is standing at the end of the bed when I finally open my eyes. I’m entirely focused on relaxing and breathing and just letting this happen to me; let the nurses position me, on my back, feet up.

Bob is at my side, watching, anxious, asking repeatedly, “Can I get you anything?” No- just be right there. This is awful. I’d planned on an intrathecal for a “gentler” birth experience this time. There’s no time for anything.

I hear Dr. Ramsey quietly say “She’s complete” to the staff, then ask, “Do you feel pushy?” I ask, “Do I need to push?” “Well, it just might make you feel better if you did.” (I.e., “if you get this baby out, it’ll all be over.”)

“I’m not ready.” It’s only been a little over an hour since I realized I was in hard labor. I’m not psyched up, especially for sans-analgesia delivery. Time to push? Here we go, ready or not. “Help me, Jesus.”

My mind sends a piece of itself back to the labor wards of India; I’m seeing the brave Indian women laboring alone, and mentally imagining/watching the progression of this delivery while it’s happening to me.

Next contraction I bear down, feel my bag of waters bulge; Bob watches it explode all over the staff. “If you give me two big pushes, I think we’ll have a baby,” she tells me. It’s “the ring of fire” now, as we call it. Nowhere to go but forward… as quickly as possible. Push hard. Quick episiotomy. Push harder; head is born. Without waiting for another contraction, push out the body. She is born. Forty-five minutes after we pulled up to the hospital.

“Thank You, Lord.” It’s over. “What is it?” I ask Bob, who’s awestruck. He’s waiting on the doctor to announce gender. I want him to. He leans down to the end of the bed to look.

“It’s a girl! We had a baby girl!”

Off to the warmer for some oxygen to pink her up a bit. Truly, in unassisted labor, when it’s over, it’s over. I’m in my right mind again, suddenly. Some sewing up down below, a few minutes of gentle help to baby Anna (APGARS were 5 and 9), and she’s back on my chest. Without any suggestion or assistance, she immediately scoots her way down to nurse, and latches on without hesitation. That was amazing. “Well, she’s quick about getting on with life, isn’t she?” the staff ask with a chuckle.

 

 

The experience was so fast and so un-prepared for, it was entirely surreal to me. I’d have thought I’d be more “ready”, but somehow it snuck up on me. Kind of like God and His authoring of Anna.

I’d prayed about having a baby while I was in Birth Attendant School. I had no leading from God to pursue it, and a newborn seemed ill-fit to our family’s challenges, position, and direction, so I gave that up pretty quickly. What do I know? Turns out she’s exactly perfect for our family’s challenges, position, and direction. I have no idea the fullness of her purpose; I could never know it all. But what I do know is the most profound blessing can come in a profoundly unexpected and confusing package. What I know is that God writes the best stories, even when they completely disorient us initially. That He overcomes real trauma, pain, loss, and disillusionment with powerful redemption, joy, peace, and hope. That He is God of life, of vision, of future. He walks us through facing all sorts of unspoken fears and forms of unbelief to show us WHO HE IS and what He does when we give Him an unreserved “yes”.

I am astounded. I am riding a postpartum emotional rollercoaster, wading through the struggles of long-transitioning 13, 9, 8, 6 year olds (not to mention Bob’s and my own). Half of my children and I weep and stumble together down roads of painful memories and losses of early mother days and tragic separations. We’re not sure how to process all of this combined joy and agony. One child, semi-launched, is still half a world away, preparing to re-enter into this old geographical and new family landscape.

I’m sleep-deprived, muscle-sore (even just almost-7 hard years take a toll on a body, and it’s definitely different this time around); I’m milked-dry only to be engorged again. Anna and I are spending the days learning each other while she adjusts to the strange demands of this outside world and all the “things” in it. Our favorite place is skin-to-skin, belly-to-belly, in a dark bedroom with some Joshua Bell playing Bach on violin in the background. The gifts of these moments of peace, dependency-met, vulnerability to each other, and raw mother-to-child bonding as creation intended… I want to treasure them up and store them in my heart, like Mary with her incomprehensible gift in Jesus’ arrival. I am much more aware of the moments than I ever could have been before. More aware of their significance, value, transience, and vulnerability. My perspective and experience of motherhood (and bearing life) is completely altered from what it was when I began walking its road 10 years ago. Praise God it is ever-changing as He graciously teaches me with great long-suffering.

Welcome to all of it, little Anna, and may the grace & peace of Jesus enclose you before and behind, all of your days. I’ll finish with the blessing a precious one offered over Anna’s brand-new life:

“What a gift your life is, little one, and what a gift it is to you that you are received with such joy and such love. We are rejoicing for you, and with you — that you will be healthy and strong, and begin to soak up so much of the wonder and mystery of the world and the love of your family as you grow and develop; that you will learn and grow and that you will feel safe and secure as you are inundated with so much newness. We pray too for your family as they do their best to understand you and care for you; that they will be strong and healthy as sleep is interrupted and physical demands are considerable; for your siblings, that this will be a time that is more joyful than difficult; that they will experience the joy of seeing a new addition to a family.” Amen and amen.

Sorry, friends, for the long pause in connecting with you here. It has been a whirlwind of three months with much happening. Here’s a quick recap:

Mary & the younger four arrived back in the States on February 1. After seven months of globe-trotting, we’ve learned how to do this airport-and-layover thing a bit better. Travel was graciously uneventful, and we made it safely back to Indianapolis for a sweet reunion. We stayed for the first six-ish weeks in Oakland City with “MEGS and Pegs” (Mary’s parents… “MEGS” being the acronym for “Most Excellent Grandfather, Sir”, and rhyming with Peggy’s actual name).

We got a wonderful week overlapping with Auntie Staci, who is living in Hong Kong to work with a ministry in the Philippines. It was so wonderful to see her before she headed back the way we’d come for another year.

Bob and Habiba made a quick visa run from Perth to Bali, Indonesia, the weekend after the family left, then were back in WA for the remainder of their training courses.

Bob went with his class for three weeks of camping on a wilderness beach (see his post for their topics). Habiba’s group continued their twelve weeks of lecture there on campus in Perth.

March 10th weekend Mary and the kids moved back into our house in Fort Branch. It’s a joy to be back “home”… the kids were ecstatic to be back in the house, the yard, the neighborhood… and the neighbor’s lives. 🙂 We are so blessed! Our precious friends who’d been renting from us (and moved out early to let us settle back in more quickly) left the house SO much like we’d left it, that it was a bit like stepping back out of the wardrobe after having spent what felt like a lifetime in Narnia (if you’re a C.S. Lewis fan), to find that nothing has changed at all here. It was a strange re-entry, but one full of gratitude.

Bob came home on March 24, and what a sweet time it was. We are so thankful for the extra time he got to spend seeking the Lord there in Perth, drawing near to God, and ministering to many of the young men in his class and room (once our family left, he moved out of our rental house and into a dorm room full of 19-22 year old guys – he even got a top bunk!).

Habiba launched into outreach phase with her team from Young People’s DTS on March 30. They went first to Nepal, and will continue on to Manila, Philippines. Internet and contact with their schedule and time difference has been a challenge, but their team appears to be doing well and having a fruitful outreach.

In the meantime, we’ve been LOVING being back home with family and at Bethel Memorial, our home church. Reconnecting with our dearest friends and seeking God together with them in person has been such a precious gift. We are trying to spend our time here very intentionally, spending life with our beloveds, and embracing the giving and receiving of ministry within the amazing Body of Christ.

(Our 1st-3rd grade Children’s Church class’s “graffiti wall” of praises for who Jesus is on Palm Sunday – such a joy!!)

We spent Palm Sunday with the Atkinson side, celebrating, eating, and Easter-egg dying (and hunting) with the cousins who could come (we missed Ben & Annie!).

This Easter afternoon we spent with Mema and Papaw Fichtinger, sharing the rainy day and lots of love.

We are so thankful to be here right now! Our family’s next steps are formulating more definitively as we continue to seek God about the specifics in His invitation for our family to live full-time invested in missions. More coming soon!!

 

(Oh, and for all my resistance to taking routine “bumpies”, as they call them, THIS is coming soon, too! Only six-to-seven weeks to go!)

 

https://www.invitation633.com/bob-fichtinger/