The day those two pink lines showed up on a pregnancy test, I was beside myself with joy. After months of praying for just such a thing, my husband and I were able to have our gleeful moment of celebration together. That same day, I went to Target to buy batteries but instead found myself meandering very slowly through the baby section.
My palms were sweaty from all the new hormones coursing through my body. I reached out swollen hands to finger little baby socks, baby blankets, baby hats. Then my eyes came to rest on a small, blue elephant. He had a green tail that played a lullaby when pulled. I glanced around guiltily to see if anyone was watching and then dropped the little guy in my basket. I took him home to my husband and we curled up on our bed together and pulled the tail over and over, beaming.
But in a few short weeks, that pregnancy ended. I sat and held that elephant as I sobbed out my sorrow. Eventually, I put the elephant in a closet so I wouldn't have the constant reminder of our baby that wasn't.
In a few more months, more pink lines. Almost as soon as I'd delivered the good news to my husband, I headed straight for the closet to pull out our elephant. We were more cautious in our joy this time, but no less excited at our miracle. We pulled the elephant's tail and left him out to make us smile.
But there was sorrow at the end of that short pregnancy, too. I remember coming home from the doctor's office after hearing that we were once again without child. I picked up that elephant and stroked his fuzzy head, a bittersweet smile showing through my tears. Through all of our disappointed hopes, God had proven Himself faithful and I clung to the promise of His sovereignty. I hugged the elephant close to my chest, whispered, "Some day," and stuffed him high up in the closet where I couldn't see him.
Fast forward six years.
I sat on my couch yesterday and watched my twins toss their toys around the living room. The rain that had driven us indoors yet again had also made us all slightly stir crazy. The kids had their box of stuffed animals out and were making piles of animals on the floor. Then they were jumping in the piles. They'd jump from creature to creature, grinning, yelling, and being their rambunctious little selves. Suddenly, underneath one son's foot, I noticed a blue trunk and a green tail.
There was our elephant. Being joyfully trampled on by no less than four (almost five) sets of little feet.
In the Old Testament, whenever God proved Himself to His people, they set up stones to help them remember His faithfulness. Here at the House of Vitafam, we've got a stuffed elephant, a pile of scrapbooks, and a whole lot of dirty footprints that fairly scream out His constancy. It may not be a literal pile of rocks, but they're our stones of remembrance. How do YOU remember?
Originally published at www.vitafamiliae.com.
Lora Lynn blogs at Vitafamiliae about life in her family with five kids, ages five and under. Send chocolate.
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Thanks, for sharing that. It was a good reminder not only to praise and remember your blessing. But to also hold on to your faith. Something i needed right now. I hope you continue to have many more blessing then set backs.
"a whole lot of dirty footprints that fairly scream out His constancy"
Love it!
Lora Lynn — What a precious story of God's provision. You are a living testimony to God's faithfulness!
What a beautiful reminder! And I adore the photo of the feet – especially the little tiny baby feet sticking out. Precious! What a blessing. =)