The doctor joked a week or two ago that a pregnant woman at my stage is like a.... lawnmower. He said those whopper contractions are like when you are cranking up an old fashioned mower. He said 'one of these times, it's gonna catch and you'll go into labor.' I've been compared to lots of things. Never a lawnmower. Strangely, I loved it.
We drove over and spent a few hours walking around the Zoo today. I just knew that the smells and walking that go along with the Zoo would help me get the lawnmower started. It was 65 degrees or maybe 70. It felt amazing. Sunshine with a cool breeze. I think my Mom thought I was crazy for going. The Zoo is an hour and 15 or so minutes from home. Maybe it was crazy. But this baby seems to be perfectly content to stay put right where she is. I think she is just not in as big of a hurry to meet us as we are to meet her. So the girls, Brian and I rocked the Zoo. Climbing wall, feeding birds, slurpin slushies, taking pics, admiring animals, wagon snuggling, riding carousels, sliding on slides and the list goes on...
(All these pics taken with my phone or Brian's. I really like the old fashioned look of some of them.)
Evelyn decided on a slushie. The other two got that sugary stuff in a tube. Not sure of the name. The girls call it 'pixie dust.' Of course, they quickly consumed theirs and wanted some of her slushie. She shared like it was her job. Crazy how Christlike she was about it... down to her very last sip.
Evelyn was beat. Plain-old, crazy-tired, after a fun day at the Zoo. With all three girls sharing a room, giggles, laughter and stories go later in the night than any of them are used to. Little Evelyn is a really good sleeper. But only in the mornings. She loves to stay up late at night. But this night, she was first to be in jammies, first to brush her teeth and first to snuggle under the covers.
After she got snuggled in, she asked me to hand her the bible that lays beside her bed. I was brushing Viv's teeth and getting her ready for bed. When I returned, Evelyn was in tears. She was reading about Jesus dying on the cross. And she cried sincere, hot, sad tears. She's seen these pages, seen these pictures and heard us talking about it hundreds of times.
THIS time was different.
She said, 'I don't want him to die.' And she sobbed into my shoulder. I listened to her say over and over that she didn't want Jesus to get hurt. She didn't want him to die. That she loved him.
I reminded her as I love to, that 'Jesus died for YOU Evelyn. He got hurt and nailed to a cross for YOU. That He loves YOU. He wanted to rescue you from your sins. That's why he had to die.'
I don't know what happened in her heart that night between she and Jesus. But something was stirring.
I asked her if she wanted me to pray. She sniffed and nodded yes.
As I prayed, she raised one hand toward the ceiling. Kind of in a fist. Then eventually she raised them both.
After I said Amen, I asked her what she was doing. She said, 'I was holding hands with God.'