Once upon a time there was a man who was deathly afraid of flying. He couldn’t see how anything so heavy could stay up in the air. He had to take a trip and was eventually persuaded to schedule a flight. When his friend met him at the airport after he got off the plane he asked how it had been. The man was pale and shaky. “I can’t believe we landed safely but you know I didn’t put my full weight down the whole time we were in the air.”
Even if our fear isn’t flying, we all do this to some extent. We refuse to put our full weight down, thinking we can “hop off” if things get bad. That “full weight” is actually faith. [Because my fear is losing this baby I’m going to talk about that, but you can see how this easily applies to many things.]
When I saw the second line come up on the test, I immediately dropped to my knees and thanked God for blessing us with another child. I had previously told myself that I would be HAPPY and try not to be scared when it happened. Not an easy task considering I had loved and lost twice in the past year and a half. I knew that I would embrace this child fully, loving him or her regardless of how much time we were given together on this earth.
Well, yes, but then time went by and fear crept in. I tried to protect myself from future hurt, not letting myself think about the future, make little sweaters or blankets, etc. I appended everything with “if the baby lives” and “assuming things go well”. I refused to make plans. I haven’t bought maternity clothes, fearing I would have to pack them away (again).
When we were approaching 13 weeks and the times when I had lost the boys, I was holding my breath. Father and I try to take a walk every evening. It’s a good time to talk without being interrupted. I said, “13 weeks tomorrow! I can’t believe it!” We both commented on how surreal it felt, thinking that this baby might actually live. I told him I had tried not to think ahead, only being grateful for one day at a time, and found it hard to believe things were going well. He said it reminded him about the joke about the man not putting his full weight down on the plane. I laughed because that’s exactly what it was like! I was 30,000 feet up and still not putting my weight down!
I’ve thought about it some more and realized a few things. When I saw two lines I had already left the airport. There was no way that a plane crash at that point wasn’t going to hurt (to say the least). I’m more than a third of the way to the destination and thinking that I am saving myself by not putting my full weight down is rather ludicrous. If the plane goes down, then it will be a massive tragedy and there’s nothing I can do to prevent that. But here’s the big point: I have survived two plane crashes and I’m still around to talk about it. Why? God! I’m not putting my full weight down on thin air, I’m putting my full weight down on God, who carries the Earth and the stars and the entire universe! That is a plane that won’t ever crash, no matter what. In an earthly sense, the planes carrying Innocent and Andrew crashed and burned, but in an eternal sense we all landed safely in God’s arms without a scratch.
No matter what happens on earth with this pregnancy, eternally we are fine. I can put my full weight down, my full faith and trust in God, who is always there and will always catch us, even if we fall.
And so, I am uncurling myself from the seat and putting my full weight down, looking out the window and enjoying the view. May it be blessed!