I was pregnant for the first time almost twenty years ago. That pregnancy ended in an early miscarriage. Many months of trying later we were told we had a less than 1% chance to conceive on our own and we were referred to a specialist with a multi-month waiting list. In that wait, I was working when we thought I’d be home with babies, bringing in unplanned income, and so we decided to head south rather than north for the holidays. We returned from a Caribbean cruise two days before Christmas and a positive pregnancy test on Christmas Eve practically took my breath away.
We debated about names for this baby who appeared to be sticking. Though a girl name came easy, boy names were a challenge. In the thick of a North Carolina summer, Ray suggested Gabriel and when I delivered a boy late in August, that was the name we gave him, unaware of the Biblical significance. Three months later and in the thick of postpartum depression, I took my difficult baby back to the school where I had worked and one of my former co-workers commented that by giving him that name I had saddled him with a lot to live up to. I chalked that up to another way I was failing him, then went home to find out what she meant.
I pulled a Bible off the shelf, turned to Luke, read about Gabriel and his “good tidings” message to Mary. When she questioned the news, his reply, like the positive pregnancy test, took my breath away: “For with God, nothing shall be impossible.” I held my crabby two month old and cried tears of revelation, sadness, joy, gratitude.
Looking back, it’s easy to see God’s hand in so many places in this story, to marvel over His provision when things seemed so bleak at the time. At Christmas especially, I am grateful for Him and His sovereignty over every aspect of my life. If I can look back and see it, can’t I also look forward and know it will be there? Isn’t that where faith lies, in the hopeful expectation of things yet to come?
