Alicia
Bruxvoort
"O my soul, bless God. From head to toe,
I'll bless his holy name! O my soul, bless God, don't forget a single
blessing!" Psalm 103:1-2
(MSG)
We'd argued on our
drive to the hospital. Soon I'd be lying belly up on an exam table as my
stretched-out skin was covered with clear cold goo. Soon we'd get our first
glimpse of the baby tucked beneath my heart.
However, my husband
and I couldn't agree on one thing: Should we find out the gender of our baby or
not?
His vote was yes;
mine was no.
Two years prior, we
opted for the moment-of-arrival surprise when we were expecting our firstborn. I
loved the thrill of hearing the doctor say, "You have a boy!" after my son had
entered the world on that momentous August day.
Since I was the one
laboring, I figured I deserved a weighted vote. So, when the grainy glimpse of
our wee one appeared on the ultrasound screen, and the tech asked if we'd like
to know the gender, I stated my preference.
Rob didn't dispute
my final call, but he did leave the hospital with measurably less excitement
than his victorious wife. In fact, for the rest of the pregnancy, he tended to
the daily grind — went to graduate school, paid the bills, played with our
toddler — but he seemed blind to the gift growing right under his nose.
As the
due date neared, I looked desperately for a way to awaken my husband to the
blessing burgeoning beneath my heart. That's when my doctor suggested an
ultrasound to check on the baby's questionable size.
With Rob stuck at
work, I drove to the hospital alone. The ultrasound tech greeted me with a smile
and a mint green hospital gown. She dimmed the lights and the screen alit with a
wiggling silhouette of our second child. My heart ached with the weight of
wonder.
Then, suddenly, I
had an idea.
I pulled a post-it
note from my purse and asked the technician to write the baby's gender on the
slip of paper. She nodded knowingly and wrote something in slow, choppy scrawl.
Next, she rummaged through a drawer and grabbed an envelope. She slid the
post-it-note inside and sealed it.
That evening over
dinner, I handed Rob the envelope and explained what it contained. At first he
just looked at me with quiet confusion, but as he began to understand what I was
offering, a smile spread across his face. He grabbed the envelope, excused
himself from the table, and returned with a fresh sparkle dancing in those deep
green orbs. For the remainder of my pregnancy, my husband was a new man.
He couldn't keep his hands off my bulging stomach or wipe the grin off his
beaming face. When our bundle of wrinkles and wails arrived three weeks later,
we named her Elizabeth Grace, for we both agreed she was an undeserved
gift.
Once the frenzy of
delivery day had grown quiet, I listened to the squeak of the rocking chair and
watched my husband cuddle our baby girl. Then, I asked the question I'd been
harboring for weeks. "What finally got you excited about this
baby?"
Rob kissed our
daughter's soft pink cheek and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess it was that
little slip of paper."
He glanced at the
miracle in his arms and cast me a sheepish grin, "Once I knew we were having a
girl, I began to call her by name. That's what made her real to
me."
Sometimes naming a
gift helps us to see it more clearly. Maybe that's why God urges us to remember
our blessings: "O my soul ... don't forget a single
blessing!" (Psalm 103:2, MSG)
The One who is
timeless invites us to carve out time to give thanks. Not because He needs our
gratitude, but because we do.
The daily grind can
make us blind. It's easy to go through the motions of life and fail to see
the gifts planted right beneath our noses. But God has given our eyes a
prescription:
"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God's will for you
in Christ Jesus" (I Thessalonians 5:18, NIV).
Naming a gift
doesn't change the gift; it just makes it real.
So make a list, tell
a friend, utter a prayer or compose a song. Tell a story, keep a journal or post
a praise.
Practice the habit
of gratitude frequently and faithfully, and odds are, you'll begin to see some
gifts that have been there all along, blessings burgeoning beneath your heart,
just waiting for a name.
Dear Jesus, I don't want the daily grind to make me blind. Open my
eyes to see the blessings in my life. Grow in me a heart of gratitude.
In Jesus' Name, Amen.