Hail fell hard and heavy in the darkness last night.
Nights like this bring back sentimental memories of the birth of Boy 3.
Sometimes it seems the way a baby comes into the world is directly linked to who they are meant to be. Or perhaps the circumstances of their birth marks the very fabric of their soul.
I’m not sure which way God weaves the destiny of a person’s life. All I am certain of is that Boy 3 is my child of the storm.
The night before his lungs first filled with oxygen, before he saw the light and felt the touch of human hands, a storm blew into Austin.
Mr. Fantastic and I were out to dinner with a group of campus missionaries from all over Texas.
We filled our stomachs with Italian food and our hearts with encouragement before stepping out into the worst storm I had ever seen.
The rain fell parallel to the ground as the wind seemingly blew everything straight to Oz.
We had no umbrella and the van was two hundred yards away. Mr. Fantastic offered to run and drive our new van up to the front of the restaurant, where he planned to open the automatic door so that I, his very pregnant wife, could hop in quickly.
I thanked my knight in blue jeans and watched him scurry, bent against wind and rain to our car.
Moments later the van pulled up and I quickly waddled to the door.
The automatic door wouldn’t open.
I could see my desperate husband pushing the auto-open button repeatedly, but the door was securely shut and locked.
I pounded on windows and pulled door handles as the rain pelted me.
I began to yell, “Unlock the doors! Unlock the doors!” until my poor panicked husband pushed the unlock button.
By the time I was in my seat I was soaked straight through everywhere and my heart beat faster than the rain fell.
The hail began on the way home. I shivered in the front seat as we stopped under trees, in parking garages, hoping to avoid damage to the van.
The contractions began at midnight.
At first the nurses at the hospital said I wasn’t in labor. But then the baby’s heart rate plummeted; the cord was wrapped around his neck, and then my water broke.
He came like that, forcing his way into this crazy world, when it pleased him, like a force of nature itself.
He has pushed and fought every day of his life.
If you ask my fighter why he argues, why his anger boils hot, he will tell you he doesn’t know.
“I was just born this way,” he says.
Yes, my son, you were. We all were born this way.
We are born into sin, fighting for love, pushing against the gales of an unconquerable storm placed before us by sin and death.
“Some went out on the sea in ships; they were merchants on the mighty waters.
They saw the works of the Lord, his wonderful deeds in the deep.
For he spoke and stirred up a tempest that lifted high the waves.
They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths; in their peril their courage melted away.
They reeled and staggered like drunkards; they were at their wits’ end.
Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble, and he brought them out of their distress.
He stilled the storm to a whisper; the waves of the sea were hushed.
They were glad when it grew calm, and he guided them to their desired haven.
Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for mankind.
Let them exalt him in the assembly of the people.”
-Psalm 107:24-31
Our great Knight in shining glory ran out in the middle of the storm.
He stood in the rain and wind. He fell under the weight if sin. He was locked out of heaven and left in the wretched darkness of Hell itself.
And just when it seemed we were doomed to be “like this” for an eternity, He rose up in glory.
Jesus made it possible for us to be reborn by the Spirit.
Our destiny and lineage of sin is unwoven by the grace of God.
This morning as my children all talked of hail and storms, my heart was full of gratitude.
I have seen the works if the Lord, and I give praise to Him alone for all He has done for mankind.
We are all children of the storm. May we never forget it.
