The Scary Stuff

"A few more days, and this could've been a totally different outcome," said the doctor as he showed me the giant knot in Jack's umbilical cord.

Not only was Baby Jack born with his umbilical cord draped around his neck, he also had a giant pretzel-looking knot in his cord. As the doctor held it up for me to see, he pulled it tight, to show me how Jack's source of oxygen and nourishment might have been cut off.

I was already crying, but then I cried harder for what might have been. I cried because I was so thankful we had chosen Dr. Lichtinger to be our obstetrician. I believe it was God, working through this seasoned, highly-skilled doctor, that saved our son's life.

I was induced nearly ten days before my due date...and that's a rare thing for an OB to do. Generally they like their patients to go full term unless they see something wrong. I don't think Dr. Lichtinger saw anything wrong at my last appointment--at least he never told me if he did. He just said, "The baby is low, the baby is big, and I think we need to schedule an induction for this weekend."

Did he have a bad feeling? Did his years of experience or extensive schooling give him reason to pause? I don't know. But I knew, way before giving birth, that I trusted him to help bring my child safely into this world.

The fear I felt upon seeing that knotted cord was the fear of what might have been, what could have  happened. But usually my fears are of the future, the unknown, the possible bad things that are lurking out there. For an anxiety-prone person like myself, the list is pretty long because there are endless possibilities in the category of "What Could Possibly Go Wrong in My Life or the Lives of My Loved Ones."

Yesterday I was reading Psalm 53 and came upon this: "There they were, overwhelmed with dread, where there was nothing to dread."

The Psalmist was speaking of God's enemies, as though the dread they had to endure was part of their punishment. As a child of God, I wonder why I so often give into those feelings of dread. When daylight wanes and nighttime descends, why don't I entrust myself to God's loving kindness? Why do I feverishly review my "List of What Could Go Wrong" as though cramming for a mid-term exam? If I can trust a mere mortal like Dr. L, why is it so hard to surrender to the Divine?

I guess it's because I know Dr. L's agenda: He wants a positive outcome. He wants to retain his reputation as a great doctor. He wants me to be comfortable and happy. He doesn't want a lawsuit that could make his malpractice insurance go up. His goal is a safe delivery and a healthy baby.

God isn't like that. Yes He is good, and He wants good for me, but His definition of good is not always the same as mine. And He's definitely not safe. Good--yes, safe--not so much. His ways are so much higher than ours, and try as I might, I can't understand them. He wants me to learn and grow, to become more like Him, to bring Him honor and glory. He doesn't care about His reputation. He doesn't need malpractice insurance. He sees good in the eternal sense, not in the here and now.

And to me, that's kinda scary ... In a strangely comforting sort of way.