The key to this story was our television antenna placed along side our house and it went all the way up to the roof. For the most part, my brother and I didn’t pay much attention to to the antenna. We had a nice playset to climb on and if that didn’t appease us, there was a small tree that we would clamber over. Our backyard was fenced, allowing my mother to put us outside relatively unattended with the instruction of, “Stay inside the fence.” For the most part, that direction was followed and we had hours of carefree play in the backyard.
If one could capture nervous energy and utilize it as a fuel source, seminarians and their families at this time of year would fuel the nation. With vicarage and call services almost a month away, the campus is chatter with talk of were we would like to go and what we hope to get from our upcoming experiences. Likewise, families begin to think more and more about packing and moving, as well as facing the bewildering truth about how much stuff they have. Most of us haven’t the slightest clue where we are going but the need to do something in preparation for the moves is strong. Mingled the constant talk of where, when, and what will happen this summer is the hushed voices of fear: What if there isn’t a place for us? What if we don’t like it? Worst of all, what if we fail and all this work is for naught? Yes, tension, nerves, and excitement are at a high this time of year.
Meanwhile, I am learning how to delicately answer the question of “How do you feel about vicarage?” I have decided that sarcasm is not the way to go (I don’t know about you, but I just love not only having a limited say about where we will live this coming year but also having no freakin’ way to plan how our life will go beyond July 1!). Likewise, brutal honesty is probably not the answer either (I don’t like it, uh-uh, not one bit.). I think I’ve settled on understating the obvious with, “Well, I’m a little nervous about it.” Yeah, that’s only a bit of an understatement.
When I was engaged to my husband, a lot of people asked me, “So, when are you going to have kids?” Although I generally answered the question with a polite, “We’re going to wait a bit,” the question always puzzled me. Why were people so inquisitive about something that shouldn’t happened until we at least got married? And why did they care?
Well, flash forward a year and a half and that blunt question has surprisingly subsided. However, the inflow of subtle opinions on whether or not we should have a baby hasn’t ceased. On one side, we have the nay-waiters. They talk about how wonderful babies are and how God always provides for their families. They talk about God’s command to be fruitful and multiply and they post articles about the ever shortening biological clock on their Facebook walls. Whatever the means of communication, the message is clear: Waiting on purpose is ungodly, starting a family quickly is God-pleasing.
On the other side of the quite opinion battle are the aye-waiters. They talk about the importance of stability in family life (and while seminary life can be described many ways, stable is not one of them) and how being an older parent gives you more wisdom. They point out all of the folks who waited well into their thirties to start having kids and they point out how God has given us the means of perhaps waiting a bit before bringing little bundles of joy into the world. Again, whatever the means of communication, the message is clear: Waiting is wise, starting a family quickly is foolish.
Whatever the thoughts, I know that as long as I don’t get pregnant their are people quietly frowning their disapproval. If I were to announce a pregnancy today, there would be people raising a disgruntled eyebrow. Granted, I find myself doing this from time to time, so really I’m a bit like the pot calling the kettle black. At any rate, young couples can’t seem to win–no matter what they do, they aren’t doing it right.
Yet there is comfort in the fact that whatever people might think or say, the only persons involved in the decision for us to start having kids are me, my husband, and God. And quite frankly, when God has a will, He has a way, so no matter what my husband and I do and do not do, God has the final say. After all, He says in Jeremiah 29:11, “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.” So, final answer on the baby question is that it will happen when God decides it will happen, no matter what my husband and I are planning.
My husband and I returned before bright early this morning from our lovely vacation in California. After managing to fall asleep at 5:15 a.m. and having some bizarre dreams, I hauled myself out of bed at 8:45 this morning in hopes of resetting my body’s clock quickly. I spent the morning in a shaky, stomach twisting, sleep deprived haze but started feeling better in the afternoon. Now it is 9:30 p.m., I’m wide awake, and my tummy is telling me it is dinner time. I think this can easily be diagnosed as jet lag. At least I can look forward to daylight savings time tomorrow. . . wait a second. . .
Today we flipped the calendar over to March, which means we are two months away from Vicarage Placement Day. *cue dramatic music* Now, I have plenty of insights about being only two months out, but I’m very tired tonight and don’t feel like writing them down. I just wanted to share this meaningful moment in the countdown with you all.