Is is possible to be in love with someone you've never met? 

There's a little boy I keep having dreams about. I kiss his cheeks and make him smile and laugh. I hold him close while I walk down a beautiful wooded lane. I sway back and forth with him in my arms as I sing in Church during worship. And I wake up knowing that he's the most precious gift in the world to me. My heart is undone, unwoven by love for a boy whose debut is still a few months out.

When I pray for him, the 1 pound wiggly babe in my womb, I can't help but let tears fill my eyes. Is God really giving us this honor? A child, a son. Truly, I am blessed. 

And yet as I think about this blessing growing in my womb, I know that not all women get to experience this kind of emotion and love. My generation has been robbed of the idea that children are a blessing. Instead, children are often seen as only the product of abuse, lust, 

I say this not as a criticism, but as a lament. 

In so many cases in America today, where there ought to be love and excitement about the birth of a child, there is fear. (Fear about the future, fear about finances, fear of what other people will think.) Where there should be joy, there is pain and trauma. (Unwanted and difficult reminders of moments they never want to relive). 

While I am saddened by all of the abortion statistics we hear about, I don't ever want to look at the women who choose abortion as monsters. They are in situations I could never understand. They may have been abused and raped, they may be facing their pregnancy all alone, or they may not be able to even take care of themselves, let alone a baby. They may be dealing with the pressure of parents or boyfriends who want things kept quiet, or the shame of how they got to this moment. In no way do I want to trivialize or brush off the complexity that women such as these face. 

But I do grieve. The fact that these situations exist at all is the work of the enemy. Like I said, my generation has been robbed. We've been stolen from. 

I ache for more mothers to get to feel the joy I feel as I wait expectantly for my son. For so many, they are not even given the chance. 

The enemy comes to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10). His mission is against the children of men. He wants death, pain and sorrow to overtake the places that God intended life, love, and joy.  If we look at the abortion industry, at the number of fatherless children in our nation, at the thousands of atrocities against women that go unknown and unpunished - we see just that. 

So I lament. But my lament must also be turned to prayer. David and the other psalmists show us this well. They cry out to the Lord when the wicked and evil men prosper and then look to God for hope and healing and justice. (See Psalm 5, 10, 12, & 13 as examples).

There are wrongs that run so deep in this world that only the Lord will be able to right them. And despite humanity's greatest efforts, we will never be able to solve the issue of sin. In the midst of it all my prayers can seem foolish.  What can my little words do?

Thankfully, it's not the size of my words in the context of the issues before me that matters. It's the size of my words in the context of the heart of God. He is listening and He responds. I've got to hinge my faith on that. 

God the author of life, and the one forming the intricacies of my son in my womb, participates both in the joy and the grief I feel. He rejoices with me at every baby kick, and He also sees the joy stolen from so many mothers. He is excited about the growing child in every womb, and He grieves that the enemy has brought death where He intended life. 

My grief, turned to prayer, added to His perfect character, reminds me that He is already at work. He has begun the response before my weak request leaves my lips. He is who He is, and today He remains the same: Father to the fatherless, defender of the widow, helper of the weak, salvation for those doomed to die, and resurrection life for the dead.  Amen.