About a week before Cooper was born, something caught my eye from my typical daytime TV lineup. I work from home, and so I keep the TV on for background noise while the girls are in daycare. As a mom, it’s hard for me to focus when a house is too quiet.
As I worked, I heard Steve Harvey say something that jumped out at me: “our God is an on-time God.” God shows up on-time. It may not be early, it may seem hopeless, we may feel at the brink of everything, but He shows up on-time.
The idea of God watching us so closely that He intercedes just at the moment of perfection is stunning. We are cared for beyond what we can do ourselves. Our stories were never meant to be easy and neat autobiographies; we have a greater Author. Cooper’s entire story has already been one of God showing up just in time.
Some day, I will share his crazy birth day story.
And as we sit here now, in a new phase of waiting, each moment is slightly different. These mountains seem massive to me, but they aren’t massive to God. I look at what Cooper has already overcome.
Even though his fluid dipped very low, he made it through to nearly 33 weeks. He had some fluid to grow some lungs; those lungs aren’t yet working right, but they could. His kidneys aren’t working right yet, but they could. With some medical help, he has started producing urine, a first step that was necessary for other next steps.
Cooper has already lived 3 days. I long for big changes because I want to rush to the end of this story and see how it turns out; tempering my own heart is a minute-by-minute wrestling match.
But on-time means just-in-time; I should know, I am always almost late. As we stand here in this gap between life and leaving, with each day changing, I remember our God shows up and that He is good. He has plans for this boy.
I’m begging for peace and courage with my vulnerable mama heart open wide, totally in-love with my baby, same as I was 5 years ago with Darla, same as I was watching my Gracie and Avery enter and live in this world. This is a hard place, but loving fully is never a risk. The greatest risk is remaining guarded, missing the love, missing the miracles.
My life would be so humbled if I was able to raise this boy here. But no matter what, I know his little purpose will be something greater than I could ever imagine. Just in-time, forever on-time.
Keep strong, sweet boy. We are waiting for you still, so glad you are here. You are loved by many.
my western nest 
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