I settle down and get still after an active and busy day. One hand resting gently on my abdomen, I close my eyes, and I wait. I'm listening, but a different sort than the kind that happens with your ears. I'm leaning in closely, straining all of me, not waiting to hear or see per say, but waiting to feel. 

A flutter. Or a tap. Or a slight nudge. That's how it begins. That's the first flickering reminder that there's something - no, someone - growing inside me. When I feel it, a smile spreads across my face. There's life in me. 

It's not life anyone else can discern from the outside, it's not life that even my husband can yet feel with his own hands, but I can feel it. I know it's there. Those simple little movements excite my heart and cause me to stop everything, to pause and enjoy the wonder. 

I'm always hoping for a little surprise throughout the day; anytime I can get still enough to notice I try to listen. The world can be moving a million miles fast and I could be totally lost in it, but I'm tuning in to something so close and important and dear to my heart that it doesn't matter. 

This is how He works in my heart, too.

For hidden weeks and unseen months I have been tending something on the inside. I have been growing something that no one else can see. The beginning stages may have had turmoil and upheaval, the temptation to surrender to exhaustion so real, but all the while when no one was watching, I was growing. And now, I'm starting to catch glimpses of that growth, in quiet moments when my heart gets still. So subtle I barely notice at first, but a single flutter can give me unexpected joy. There's life in me. 

No one else can see it yet! Even those closest to me can't peer in and measure a change. But all this time the God who sees in secret has been weaving together life in my once empty heart. And despite the months of secret growth happening underneath the surface, I don't yet know what the beautiful finished work will look like. 

Like with the tiny life in my womb, there's lots yet to be discovered about what is being grown. It will be months more of invisible growth before anyone but God can see it. And birth is just the beginning of discovery; the journey towards maturity will be unfolding for years and years before me. But this I'm sure of, it will be beautiful; sweet baby, he or she, will be beautiful. 

For all the attention I give these little movements, these flutters of life, I am reminded that God is even more attentive. He leans in and waits with excitement for the slightest movement of my heart toward Him. He beams with joy and probably calls the angels over to see, saying, "Look, there's life in her." 

He is so proud of His handiwork; He is paying attention to every movement, every moment, every step in the process. He is the one who sees the end from the beginning and He is the one able to bring His work into full completion. It's His joy to do so. 

And He cheers me on in the process. He delights in the first flutters of love and joy and righteousness as they grow in my heart. He waits with patience for the things that are not yet seen to come forth. He applauds every wobbly baby step, every silly baby babble, every milestone in my journey, with authentic pleasure, because He is truly a good Father. 

Today I am thankful for all of these flutters and movements, subtle and unseen, and all that they mean for the future.