On All Saints Sunday I preached about waiting – the waiting we Christians do for the return of Christ and the inauguration of the Kingdom. I spoke about the saints who gather with us at Christ’s timeless communion table, and that we await the day when we will be joined with them – not only in spirit – but in flesh and blood, when the dead are raised.
And of course, as I described the anxiety, annoyance and aggravation of waiting, I used our waiting for baby #3 as a brief illustration of the emotional quality of waiting. Gosh, if I only knew then what I know now.
We’re still waiting. The baby hasn’t yet come.
Yes, some of Jess’ water broke. Yes, she has felt some cramps and contractions. But a few more exams and yet another ultrasound show that the amniotic sac remains intact. The gush my wife experienced was likely a "blister" or "pocket" in the sac that burst, not the whole thing. And the cramps and contractions? Nothing consistent. The baby remains safely ensconced in the friendly confines of the amniotic sac in the bulging belly of my wife.
And so we’re at home. We’re waiting.