The clock told me it was far too early to rise from my pillow, but Hutch felt otherwise. Knowing I had at least two more hours of sleep left on the menu, I decided to try the only thing I knew to work…rubba-tummy. (Term coined from my dad)
He removed his furry rear end from my face, where he’d earlier considered a reasonable place to plop, and allowed me to cuddle him close. And so we laid there, him with his tongue fallen to one side due to the harmonious tummy rub, and me fighting as best I could to fall back asleep. Before I knew it, my alarm clock was singing and we’d slept soundly.
It’s these moments—now please don’t laugh at me—that make me long to have a baby. I’ve never been a Mom, so for those who do have children of your own, you may think I’m crazy. She has no idea what she’s talking about, you might think. And you’re right…I don’t. But I do know that ever since I can remember, my instinct to nurture and protect has been off the charts. My first baby doll barely has a face left on her rubber skin due to the dozens of kisses and hugs. As my friends transition from newlyweds to parents, I fight the urge of jealousy. I muster up excitement and smile when they share their good news. Deep down it hurts, and I find myself questioning Why me? And it’s then that God whispers, I have a plan for you.
His plan may not be our own, but we can find peace in knowing it’s THE plan.
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