A Hard Job....

She'd given birth to 10 children, and yet, this one was her hardest labor. She was so worried about her daughter. Was everything ok? Each time we checked heart tones, she met our eyes with a question in hers. Was that normal? Was her daughter going to be alright? Wasn't this labor too long and too hard?  Shouldn't the baby be born by now? Instead of settling in and letting labor take it's course, she was anxious. She couldn't sleep. She nibbled on food. She asked hundreds of questions. Sometimes she even paced.

Grandmother-to-be is a hard job.

It was 12:22 am on the coldest night of the year when we pulled down the gravel drive in rural KY. A fire kept the Amish home toasty and warm in contrast to the crunchy cold outdoors that shrink-wrapped your skin to your face every time you walked to the outhouse. Kerosene lamps stood, lit, on several surfaces in the main room, giving the house a comfortable feel like warm tea in your belly. After some relaxed conversation and laughter, things quieted down. We all tried to get some rest before the action really picked up.

Labor is a hard job.

She worked so hard, resting when she needed to, and exercising to help move things along. In early afternoon things began to get more uncomfortable, and it seemed that the end was in sight. Baby's heartbeat even gave us a few decelerated readings that seemed promising. A check told us that baby was in an unfavorable position, and we still had a long way to go. She stayed strong and tried so many different tricks to encourage baby to re-position. Her pain moved to her back and became nearly unbearable as darkness visited for the second time in her labor. She begged for relief and another check showed us that things still weren't anywhere near ready for birth. She clung to her husband with each contraction as they somersaulted over her, one right behind the other.

Mother-to-be is a hard job.

He looked earnestly at us as we discussed options for his wife and baby. We could try the birth pool as a last resort, or we could go to the hospital for pain relief. Positions and massage were not offering reprieve any more. He agreed to stoke the wood stove and try to heat enough water to fill an 80 gallon pool up in his kitchen. Up and down the stairs he trekked with armloads of wood. Teapots, soup pots, and canners full of water were heated on propane burners and the wood stove. Finally, the pool was full. His wife found enough relief to doze off a bit between contractions, and in his relief, he was able to crumple on the floor against the kitchen counter and nod off as well.

Father-to-be is a hard job.

With daylight just beginning to show her face, the time had come for little one to make his/her grand appearance. As with the rest of labor, it was an uphill battle. Mommy, Daddy, and Midwives tried so many different positions to talk baby out of his/her timidity. The midwives took turns, because even a certified contortionist wouldn't have outdone us that day. When Mommy needed to, she would push, pull, squeeze, or lean on whomever was available. This midwife now understands the term 'head compression' and knows that when squeezed hard enough, she will see multicolored stars swirling across her field of vision. The other midwife nearly had her jaw dislocated.

Midwife is a hard job.

And then, we could see the head. Slowly, slowly, and after plenty more work, it was here... and turning purple. The shoulder was stuck. But on the way to the birth, God had spoken to the heart of one of the midwives, and she knew to be prepared for this. A few proper moves and 30 seconds later, here was baby. Cord spiraled around her neck, body, and leg, which explains why she had a few incidents of sounding stressed. The focus was untangling the cord, and oops! Maybe we should get that second leg born. Then a deep breath, a snuffle, and a cry. So many lumps on that poor, misshapen head from her difficult escape from the inside.

New baby is a hard job.

Finally everyone was here, happy, and healthy. Grandmother was so relieved, and so proud of her daughter and granddaughter. Labor was over. Mother was curled up with her new little girl, admiring all 9 pounds and 8 ounces of her. Daddy was beaming and making sure morning chores were done. Midwives were planning to sleep cleaning up, filling out paper work, and answering questions. Baby was being cute, the way new babies should. All that to say that sometimes, it takes five people a day and a half to introduce a new baby to the world.

One Baby at a Time...

That's how I'm seeing the world. One baby at a time. When I left the Philippines and entered another season of waiting, I prayed that God would provide opportunities for me to serve His people with midwifery. A week after that, I had the privilege of attending the birth of my friends' firstborn son. Three weeks later, I was in Honduras for a birth.

December found me in Georgia with dear friends, welcoming their daughter, and January has had me working alongside a midwife in Kentucky. Has the Lord answered my prayers? You be the judge.


I received the message below from a patient in the Philippines. These are the sentiments that make my job worth it.

jan, 19 2013 ur my midwif of my child,, now my child is 2yrs old ,,thank u u are the 1 helping me in my labor,,

Laura is the other midwife in a headband.

And now, I fly again. To a new continent and a new country. To a family in Chad, who is bringing Jesus to their neighbors. To a Momma who needs a midwife for her 6th baby. The plan is that I will travel with a good friend who worked alongside me in the Philippines. We plan to visit several other teams in the country while we're there. Both Laura and I are praying about whether God would set either or both of us in a team there.

So I'm off to see another part of the world. Tour de Bebe. To see another set of prayers answered for myself, Laura, and the family to whom we are sent. 20 days from now, I will board a plane for 1.5 months of Africa. Blessed be the Lord, who fills my heart with desires, and then grants me the desires of my heart.

The In Betweens....

The in betweens of life are the times we seem to want out of the most. They're the times in which we feel suspended, lost, and lacking direction. The times we spend pursuing a degree, waiting for a dream job, forming a little one within us, growing up, figuring out our next steps.... the becoming that we lose track of for always pursuing the end goal. The cliche journey vs. destination conundrum.

But I think these in-between times make up most of our lives. I'm coming to believe we need to embrace these times the most closely, because they make up so much of our histories. This is the stuff lives are composed of. To find joy and contentment in the in-betweens is a delight few know and many should learn.


This thing called waiting is one of those lessons I keep getting. Either I've failed to learn, or I'm failing to retain, but it seems to come around at least as frequently as the purposeful, intentional, goal-focused living that is the stuff people think life is made of. Yet that elusive dream of a structured life so often keeps me from living well the pieces that are set before me.

Pastor Jerry in the striped tie, now with Jesus

I'm reminded to enjoy the in-betweens as I grieve the loss of one of my Philippine pastors, Pastor Jerry. He turned 50 at the beginning of December, and he is survived by his wife of 2 years, and his 1-year-old baby girl. If he'd waited for those monumental things in life, rather than living his in-betweens, there wouldn't be so much living to his life. Who knows when our time is up and our name will be called? How can we measure the importance of our lives in events, achievements, and goals?






In so many ways I find myself in a major in-between time just now. I'm striving to live each day thoughtfully, purposefully, and prayerfully. I have hopes and dreams which may develop into goals and achievements, but I'm insistent upon living the now with intention. While idealistic thoughts and dreams for the future should drive me forward, they are actually a hindrance when they interfere with a fruit-filled today. So while I plan to keep dreaming and anticipating, I'm also learning to make the most of my in-betweens.

I must work the works of Him who sent me while it is day. The night cometh when no man can work. John 9:4