I have a reputation for being clumsy. On multiple occasions I have been referred to as a “bull in a china shop”, my public tumbles are epic (one of which was caught on a gas station camera prior to the days of YouTube, thank God), and I accumulate bruises faster than a group of nerds snatch up passes to Comic Con (I’m only being mean because I’m a jealous nerd who has not yet attained such glory).
Anyway, given my history of falling down and bumping into things, I get super nervous around newborns. Some parents feel the need to hand over their squirmy bundles of joy to me so I can experience the awesomeness of a tiny earthling in my arms, but it makes me tense up given that I tend to accidentally drop, break, and/or knock objects into walls. And when the tiny bundles cry, forget it. I feel as though I personally offended the little human just by existing and not being their primary care giver. It’s intense.
But sometimes this isn’t the case. Sometimes, usually depending on my comfort level with the parent(s) and/or age of the baby, I look upon the little humanoid, take it in my arms, and hold onto it tighter than I would a last rib at a barbecue. Something clicks inside my stone cold heart and I feel a rush of confidence as I realize not only do I love the little creature, I will do anything to protect it (especially from my clumsy self).
The only other thing I can liken my feelings toward babies to are my feelings toward the idea of hope. Hope, like tiny humans, is simultaneously fragile and buoyant (don’t worry, I haven’t tested the buoyancy of babies on purpose or accidentally). It can be easily broken when tampered with, but can also withstand more than we think especially when we take action to nurture it and do everything we can to help it grow stronger.
Recently I’ve learned (yes, only recently) that the best way to nurture hope is to expect the best and speak positively over your goals, circumstances, and/or what appear to be desperate situations where hope does not seem to exist.
I say I only recently learned this concept because I’ve hit expert level when it comes to talking myself out of hoping for the best outcomes in many areas of my life. It got too difficult to talk about the “one days”. I felt pain and doubt any time I’d even utter things like, “One day I’ll get married”, “One day at my baby shower”, “One day when I have a steady income”…. and the list of my “one days” goes on and on.
In order to deal with the pain, I trained myself to think of what the kids on Tumblr call an “AU” (alternate universe) and resolved myself to be content with living a life that doesn’t hold a shred of the dreams I once had for myself. Pretty bleak, but doable. Oddly enough, my resolve to live in the “AU” still didn’t help my broken heart. In fact, I think it made it worse. Shocker.
But just like the proud parents of a squirmy newborn who want me to be the temporary keeper of their most treasured possession, God is also “forcing” me to cradle His dreams for my life even though I’m scared, uncomfortable, and am filled with doubt that they will survive while in my care. And He does this not only because He loves and trusts me to carry out His will, but He created me and knows I’ll do exactly what I do when I hold an actual baby: I’ll eventually relax, speak love and hope over its future, and be in wonder of God’s miraculous design for every life.
I know it’s not easy (believe me, I KNOW), but start speaking life into your goals or circumstances, whatever they may be. Believe for the new job, baby, spouse, healing, home, strength, etc. Start acting like the sickness is gone, the race is won, and your ideal life is already set in motion. In other words, be the YOU you want to see in the world: fierce, healthy, strong, and full of hope. And if you’re hoping for a baby, I can hardly wait to admire and love it… from a safe distance, of course.