We're getting close. Only 8 weeks until little Xerxes will be full term! It's a strange deadline--it's the most fluid one I've ever had in my life. Usually I know within a few days when something will occur. With this, we know when the due date is, but we're very aware that day is not a hard and fast date. We know Mortimer could come now, or he could come in another ten weeks. I don't know when they induce labor, but we're hoping that we don't get to that point.
I was talking with my piano teacher (if you'd like to hear a recording of my piano playing, find the nearest cat, set it on the keys, and then release a very unfriendly dog into the room. It sounds like that, only a little less organized) about the chaos that seems to be prevalent all over the world. He joked about how we were bringing a child into this world, especially since it was the youth that seem to be determined to steal anything not nailed down in London.
I suppose I could despair, and wonder if there is any hope, but at the same time I remember the promises the church makes at baptism, about how the entire church promises to help raise the child as a Christian. Rachel and I aren't alone in this--we're surrounded by the entire church that promises to help us.
When we feel desperately alone and confused by a child that can't communicate, the church is there to support us, to love us, and offer their wisdom. When we're frustrated by a child that communicates very clearly, the church offers a sympathetic shoulder as well as a community to show the child what integrity is and why it matters that we live as Christians. When we're uncertain as to how to shepherd our son, the church will help point to Christ.
I don't know what the next twenty years will bring, but I am hopeful.
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