April Showers Bring May Flowers

May is often a hectic month with graduations, end of school events, Memorial Day weekend, and volatile, stormy weather. With a child who has a late May birthday, the culmination of these events nearly always interferes with party plans. Traditionally, intricate plotting and rescheduling is required (and one year, a full out cancellation after 3 reschedules).

This year, as I sent out rescheduled plans due to a severe thunderstorm forecast, I couldn’t help but reflect on how much the old adage “April showers bring May flowers” rarely seems to be true in our lives. The last several years, May has been full of tornadoes and life transitions. We have moved in May twice in the last 2 years. “May flowers, my foot,” I thought to myself as I reflected on how weather was once again interfering in birthday celebration plans.

Then, I remembered the child that the celebration is for. I remembered that he was due mid-June. But, 11 years ago, I woke up at 3 a.m. on a Sunday morning, Memorial Day weekend, to discover my water had broken. The baby was coming three weeks early! I hadn’t even finished packing my hospital bag. Waddling to the car, I listed items for my husband to grab. “And, the baby name book” I instructed over my shoulder. “You haven’t picked out a name?” our sitter exclaimed, incredulously. “I thought we had more time!” I wailed as I stepped outside.

Having chosen not to find out the sex of the baby before delivery, we discussed options en route and settled on a girl’s name as we parked in the hospital lot. Around noon, a lady from church peeked in our hospital room to check on our progress. “Do you still have that baby name book?” I asked.

“Do you still need it?” she answered with surprise. Unable to speak, I nodded vigorously. Realizing the moment was imminent, she handed the Bible name book to my husband and stepped out of the room. As the doctor coached my final pushes, my husband frantically flipped through the pages, throwing out suggestions that I kept declining with vigorous shakes of my head. “Are you sure you don’t like this name?” he asked, revisiting a name we had previously dismissed merely because a son had a close friend with that moniker. “What does it mean?” I panted. “Gift of God,” he replied. I nodded in affirmation. We decided on a middle name (from a grandfather who died before my husband was born) and one final push later the doctor announced, “It’s A Boy!!”

In hindsight, I have realized that God was indeed giving us a gift. For three autumns in a row, we experienced the joy of a new pregnancy. Yet, the first two of those pregnancies both ended in miscarriage.┬áSo, the arrival of this May baby was like a field of flowers after a few years of “April showers”. Which means that whatever inconveniences and frustrations we have in trying to celebrate this gift of God in our lives (from life upheavals to bad weather to scheduling conflicts) he is worth the effort in the end. And, he is a reminder that God really does send flowers after rain.

 

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