Yesterday, I needed to travel from my small town in Illinois to the big city of Evansville, IN, to visit my mom, who landed herself in the hospital (she’s going to be fine). After our visit, as most small-town folks do, I wanted to venture to Target. Ya know, just to see what I could see.
With my husband and daughter in tow, we decided to start in one section and make our way around. Again, just to see what we could see.
We started in home décor, where we squeezed the pillows and sat on the chairs. Afterward, we ventured into the kitchen aisle, where we tried all the gadgets and looked at new kitchen towels. It was then that we moseyed on over to the camping gear, toys, and shoes. After deciding that we didn’t need any of that, we swung around the corner, and there I stood face to face with onesies, booties, tiny bibs, and gorgeous cribs. I’ve learned to look away and not set my gaze on the items for too long because I don’t want my mind to register to my heart that it sucks.
Yes, I have an amazing daughter through adoption, but I never got to smell her sweet baby skin, buy her a stroller or lay her down in a crib.
My heart longs to do those things. And her heart longs to be a big sister who sits on the floor and plays peek-a-boo. And my husband? Goodness. His heart longs to have one crawl down the hallway on the hardwood floors he installed.
Needless to say, I hurried down that aisle, heading straight to the paper towels and toilet paper. I knew that those wouldn’t pull at my heartstrings. But as I rounded the corner, hurrying to the back wall, I saw them.
Baby Yoda onesies.
Now, I’m not a fan of Star Wars, but it is one of my husband and daughter’s favorite movies to watch together. Immediately, I grabbed for it, almost out of instinct. I even whispered…“How cute!” Followed by…“If I had a baby, I would buy this.”
About that time, my daughter, who is almost 12, put her hand on my back and said, “It’s okay, Mom. One day.”
With my head down, I nodded in agreement.
Slowly, we all three walked away as I made my way down the toilet paper aisle and then up the paper towel aisle before swinging back around to the baby section.
This time on purpose.
I was going to get that onesie.
I often say that prayer is asking for rain, and faith is carrying around an umbrella.
It’s having one even when there isn’t a raindrop in the forecast.
Or a storm cloud in the sky.
I have zero reasons to believe, based upon my diagnosis, age, or statistics, that I will ever need this “umbrella.” But I have it. Just in case. I know that I serve a God who does the impossible. A God who heals and cares for the barren. And I want Him to know that in faith, I’m ready for the moment He sends me a downpour of blessings.
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