A Message From Above

I think my wife said this best:

"Last Friday afternoon, October 10th I was sitting on the balcony of the condo, working very hard at shortening a closet rod with a hacksaw. In the middle of my task I notice a young, black man standing by the fence that separates the condo property from the patio homes. His position pretty much put him directly across from me, one story down. He was wearing baggy pants, a white hooded sweatshirt with some sort of colorful design on it (hood up) and he had a pair of ear phones dangling from his neck. In other words, he looked very much like any other black youth you would happen upon in this neighborhood.

“Six pounds, fifteen ounces,” he said to me.

I must have given him a puzzled look because he repeated, “Your baby, six pounds fifteen ounces.”

“That’s what I thought you meant.” I replied.

And that was the end of our exchange.

Now you have to understand that I had been a bit anxious about the size of the child I carry within in me because just two days before at my weekly appointment the doctor said that she though the baby was kind of big. Being that I am planning on a natural childbirth without drugs the prospect of a big baby did not thrill me. After all, I have to push him out and the bigger he is the harder it’s going to be. And if he’s too big, there would exist the possibility of a C-section; the added cost and recovery time for which would be a challenge for me to come up with.

So to have a complete stranger, and a guy no less, take a guess at how big my baby is was a bit puzzling and most certainly made me take notice. Was this some guy just passing buy who thought it would be amusing to take a guess or could it possibly be a divine message? Both Nathan and I pondered this for quite some time.

Fast forward to today. Since the doctor had some question about the size and position of my baby, she ordered up an ultra sound for me just so we could make sure that everything is how it should be. During the session, the technician explained that she was taking measurements of his head, feemer bone, and stomach, which in turn would be plugged into a formula that would estimate his size. When she had done the math, she told us that he was close to seven pounds. Nathan, the ever diligent question asker, asked if she could provide an exact weight. After doing a conversion from grams to pounds, the technician replied, “Six pounds, fifteen ounces.”

Nathan and I exchanged knowing looks of wonderment and surprise. What are the chances that my baby’s weight would be exactly the same as the stranger’s guess? Pretty slim if you ask me. There is no doubt in our minds that his message was one from God, sent perhaps to comfort me and put me at ease. Whether he was an angel or a prophet is still a matter for debate, (I personally lean towards angel simply because that was my initial thought when the encounter happened) but the divine errand of that man can not be denied.

This is not the first time God has had something to say about my little baby boy. Almost two weeks ago while worshiping on Sunday morning He assured me that He would be with me as I gave birth. That alone made me cry simply because I felt so loved by my Heavenly Father. And if I were to go into all the ways that He has already provided for my baby this journal would be many pages long.

Something special is up with my little boy and I am not sure what it is. All I know is that it seems as if God has taken a very keen interest in the child within me and all I can assume is that He has extraordinary plans for my baby. I relate very strongly with Mary, the mother of Jesus, these days for she too had her baby’s needs provided for (gifts from the wise men), a sense that God was with her in her pregnancy, and yes, even a visit from an angel. I don’t for a moment believe that my little baby will save the world, but I’m pretty sure that God has something very special planned just for him."

Obama & Nebuchadnezzar

There’s a car in our complex parking lot with an Obama sticker on the bumper. It bears the single word, “Hope,” and with all due respect to my Democrat brethren, I can’t decide if the sticker makes me want to laugh or cry. McCain may be less than ideal, yes, but if Obama is the new paradigm of hope, then—in my most humble opinion—this country is really in trouble.

I was talking with God about this, expressing my various fears on this issue. I fear that voters will start turning to the lesser known, more worthy candidates and water down the vote instead of voting my the numbers to put the “lesser of two evils” in office. Sure, I’m as tired of voting against someone as the next guy, but given the number of people blatantly voting for Obama I feel it needs to be aptly countered.

I fear that many will let their racism override their judgment and vote for Obama, not because he’s qualified for the job, but because he’s black. A friend of mine has already been accused of being a racist for saying (as the man’s own vice-president running mate once said) Obama isn’t ready to lead this nation.

I told God—in my infinite wisdom—that I fear Obama will charm his way into office, and when that happens this country can put its head between its legs and kiss its ass good-bye.

God—in His far more infinite wisdom—replied, “What’s it to you if I do?”

It’s at that point I remembered the teachings about Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian king who thought himself to have risen to greatness, so God made him eat grass for seven years to prove a point. (Daniel 4) The point, in brief, was that Nebuchadnezzar was king only because God placed him in that position. In the same way, the only way Obama will get into the white house is if God puts him there. Ultimately, in this upcoming election, the only vote that really matters is God’s.

“You put Obama in power,” I said, “and he’s going to flush this country down the toilet.”

“This country makes a sport of flushing Me down the toilet,” God said. I had to admit it sounded fair.

I hope I’m wrong, and McCain will win the election.

I hope that if I’m right, I’m wrong about Obama.
But even if these hopes are dashed, my ultimate hope remains in Christ.

Baggage Claim

My wife nearly opted to become a widow a few years ago as we traveled to my cousin’s wedding in California. Being the planner that she is, she continued to ask a logical barrage of questions.

“Who’s coming to get us at my parent’s house?”

I answered truthfully, “Don’t know.”

“Well, when are they coming?”

“Not really sure.”

“Where are they taking us?”

I shrugged.

“When is the wedding, by the way?”

“Don’t remember.”

“Were is the wedding?”

“California, somewhere.”

I can’t blame her for being frustrated with me, but on the return trip she understood why I found such vital details unimportant.

As much as I love my family, as much as I consider them all to be wonderful people, I’ve learned that when traveling with them the best plans to have are no plans. Just get yourself to baggage claim and blend in with the luggage because everyone else has planned everything without you and you’re just along for the ride. It’s a rather stress free way to travel, actually. All you need to know is that dad will meet you in baggage claim and that everything else is taken care of whether you like it or not.

God brought this to my attention this evening whilst meeting with my beloved Brotherhood. I believe the reason He did so was because we’re facing a lot of uncertain times just around the corner where we might not know where the mortgage check is coming from or how we’ll get our next meal. (Perhaps not that bad, but that’s how it feels.) The message, or so it seemed, was, “Just get yourself to baggage claim and trust that Dad has the rest in hand.”
Why is it so much easier to trust my parents than it is to trust my God? Even so, there’s peace about my future. Stress free way to travel if you ask me.

Exactly How Does One Research Masochism?

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.