Throughout my life, I’ve created quite the lengthy list of “things I want to be when I grow up.” As a little kid, I thought I’d be an architect, but I don’t particularly LOVE math, so that blew over. I used to think I wanted to teach, but even though I’ve gone back to that desire multiple times, the door has continually closed. I’ve toyed around with writing and even seen some minor success, but even this is not the passion that I go to bed every night praying will come to fruition. All my life, as far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be a Mom.
I was a “baby-doll” kid; forget Barbies. I wanted to snuggle, swaddled, change, birp feed, dress (and any other array of things baby dolls are designed to do) all my “children”; trust me, I had plenty! Correction – I’m a packrat – so I still have plenty. Beyond practicing with Cabbage Patch or Lee Middleton, I started getting in as much real-life experience with babies/kids at a fairly young age. I’ve babysat for more kids that I can possibly recall, worked camps, taught Sunday School classes, gone on adventures, bought toys, kissed boo-boos, made cookies, etc., etc. I’m not the least bit shy around babies; I don’t tire out around crazy-active kids, and I really enjoy hanging out with teenagers. Not bragging, but I like to think I’ve got a good handle on the parenting concept. I’ve anticipated that so-much-wanted phase in my life for as long as I can remember, and so often I think, “I’m Ready!”
God, clearly, thinks otherwise. And per the usual, He’s right. Let’s be real; I’m twenty-three, assuming there is A LOT of life before me. I haven’t even begun to think about a marriage with the father of said children – but if God wants me to meet him in Ireland while on The Race, I’m game! I’m financially stable, but lets face it, kids cost money! Lots and lots of money! I wouldn’t put myself in the “lots and lots” category just yet. Oh, and then there is that whole, “I’m traveling the world for the next 11 months,” thing. Can you imagine carrying a kid in that backpack on top of everything else?!?!
Yeah, God’s smart! He knows the plan for my life far better than I do, and sometimes He gives sweet reminders that He will certainly fulfill promises. During a late night chat with Raul and Becky, we somehow got off on relationships, and I shared that its always been important to me to have a family and sometimes I get frustrated waiting on that to happen. Raul paid one of the coolest compliments I’ve ever received when he said, “You do not look like a woman who is not meant to have children.” 🙂 (I think that means I have child-bearing hips!)
This past Sunday (Sept. 23, 2012), we attended evening Church services as usual. Kids and teens swarmed us as we entered the building, fighting over who would get to sit next to each of us. Praise music blasted, the praise team huddled in a corner praying over the service, people buzzed all over the place and it’s become quite the familiar scene so everything just seems normal. The only change this time – I was rocking a compression sock covered ankle, having taken a pretty painful roll earlier in the morning. Walking/standing proved pretty painful, and while thankfully my team and new friends were incredibly accommodating, I was frustrated that I wouldn’t really be able to take part in the worship portion of the service. I settled into my pew, watched others dancing, singing, smiling and having fun, and I quite honestly felt like pouting. “Really, God? Not even two weeks in and I’m already benched?”
Ankle Sprain care while at Church = frozen water bags (that eventually leaked all over the floor!) Whoops.
Around that point, I noticed the little family (two sisters and a brother) seated next to me. I would guess that the girls were probably five and six, and the adorable little boy was maybe two. Their parents were nowhere in sight, but this isn’t a big surprise at this point. I didn’t remember ever having seen them before, and they certainly seemed intrigued by this purple-clad Gringo who’d plopped down beside them. Luckily, my “Sylvia Bag” (anyone reading this who knew my great-grandmother will appreciate that reference) came pre-filled with plenty of entertaining items for making new little friends. I dug around for a yo-yo, a flashlight, a tablet, etc., achieved a few confidence-boosting giggles, oohs and aahs, and before I knew it, the little boy had crawled into my lap.
My new pal, rocking my new shades.
The service started; the band fired up, the congregation stood (except for me and my new little buddy), and the place erupted in the worship scene I’ve grown so fond of. For whatever reason, though, I didn’t feel like singing along with the upbeat songs I’ve halfway learned while here in Azua. Instead, I sat there starring and this handsome little man in my arms, and I began rocking slightly, singing “Jesus Loves Me,” and simply hoping to show him that someone REALLY, REALLY cared about him right then. Somewhere around the 10th stanza of Jesus Loves Me (which is identical to the 1st stanza when I’m the one singing) he was out like a light, but I kept on holding him, swapping pools of sweat with him, kissing his fuzzy little head and darn near crying over how sweet the moment truly was.
Not a fan of this pic of me, personally, but love what it really shows!
Then I heard it. Out of nowhere, I heard God whispering to me, “Hold my babies for now. I’ll give you your own when you’re ready to give them fully back to me.”
Whoa! Clearly, I’m not ready, yet. God knows that. And something tells me he’ll use a gazillion kids all across the world to bring me to that point. Someday, I’ll hold my own babies, and that’s a promise worth waiting for!
Enjoy these photos of some of the babies I've been honored to hold while here:
Be Blessed,
Ashlee
