Baby-Makin' Hips

In my head I am a pretty low-maintenance girl. I play sports, I’m more comfortable getting sweaty playing ball than I am in heels or on the sideline. But it is during the moments that I catch myself spending entirely too long in front of the mirror taking inventory of my least favorite things that I remember one small fact: I am crazy.

Despite my exorcising efforts, there is one bodily change that try as I might, I cannot slow or stop. It is like standing on my porch watching the flood waters creep inch by inch towards the threshold, threatening life as I know it. My hips will not stop growing.

I get it, body, you are trying to tell me something…I’m supposed to be procreating Well, I have news for you. That isn’t happening any time soon. So, it would  be great if you could stop preparing for it.

My baby-making hips are ruining my life right now. Every day their girth widens by about an inch. Seriously, are you preparing to birth some sort of freakishly large child? I get that I am a genetic goldmine and will probably only produce linebackers…..but they aren’t going to come out 6’4, so please stop growing to accommodate a child of that size. You have 10 years to get ready. Make it stop.

My timeline is a little bit different from what my nether regions have determined appropriate. I say we are taking it slow, just chilling until something awesome comes along; my hips say time’s a tickin’. We need to get on the same page because there are only so many times I can convince myself  that the mirror is actually just at a weird angle so they just look bigger than they really are.

As my body prepares for the future, so does my heart. It’s actually irrelevant that I am not prepared to be with child because my hips are headed that direction regardless of my protests. God does this to us a lot. He doesn’t always wait until it is time to start growing us. Sometimes, he prepares you long in advance of the purpose set before you.

During those times when you feel emotionally and spiritually stretched for no reason, He is simply preparing for the beginning that will soon come. When God called Abram to leave his father’s house and everything he knew, God didn’t tell him where he was going. God told Abram to go to the land He will show him. Future tense. Meaning one day. Yo, Abram, grab your stuff and head out. I’ll keep you posted.

My spiritual hips are widening by the minute for a period that I am still not privy to. I get so frustrated that the creator of the universe won’t let me in on His secret. That the I Am, who doesn’t even need a noun because He is so much bigger than my grammatical constraints, thinks He knows better than I. Just like the tantrum I throw in the mirror as I watch my hips grow, I cry out to God when He won’t tell me what He is doing up there. I know that the transformation I am currently experiencing will lead to me not stabbing my husband in the face as we bring our beautiful creation into the world. By the looks of it, babies are actually just going to slip right out. A little shimmy here or there and the next Brian Urlacher will make his debut into the world. That knowledge does little to satiate my vanity because I have no idea when this change will come to fruition. My pretentious human flaw is that I need a path.

It is no wonder I feel lost without a mapped course for my life. Daily I follow the little blue dot on my iPhone as it directs me from the red pin to the green pin, making my path simple and well laid out. There are no surprises. GPS allows me to be 10 steps in front of the game, never missing a turn and never needing to make any sort of decision. I just follow this device blindly relying on its unerring ability to get me to my destination.

I have more faith in my GPS than I do in my Savior.