The Final Push

“PUSH!!!”

Everything in me wanted to be done. It had been an hour of pushing and repositioning. This being my first delivery, I really had no idea how much longer it could go. Panic set in; my heart raced and sweat broke out on my brow.

Sensing the change in my attitude, the nurse began to cheer me on.

“OK, Melissa, just keep breathing. You’re almost done. You’re doing great. Just one more push.”

The tightening of my stomach told me another contraction was starting. I nodded my head, lowered my chin, and thought about how badly I wanted to see my son.

“1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8. Breath! Again. 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8.”

In the final moments of the contraction, desperation set in and I pushed with all my might. I did not want to go through another contraction; this needed to be the end.

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Today I’m posting over on Ungrind.org’s blog Fresh Brew! Click over to discover how I found the endurance to make that final push…

The Battle Within

My daughter Cora is obsessed with all things pink.

A couple of days ago we saw a huge selection of colorful dresses at a local children’s clothing store. I saw a beautiful yellow one, a bright green one, and one with polka dots that I really wanted her to get. As we walked up to the display I asked Cora which dress she would like.

“The pink one,” was her prompt reply.

Of course. I probably shouldn’t have even asked. This daughter that God has given me is the girliest-girl I’ve ever seen. She prances around in high heels, wearing her “married” dress, dripping with costume jewelry, and slathering on the “lipstick” (a.k.a. “chapstick”). Her favorite game is to play “mom” and she has recently discovered a new friend — Barbie.

When I found out that I was pregnant with a girl I decided that I wasn’t going to fall into the trap of dressing her all in pink. I purposely chose purple, yellow, green, and white clothes for her. I bought non-pink receiving blankets and nursery décor. I have never been that much of a girly-girl; I tend to fall somewhere in that middle ground between tomboy and beauty queen. But nature took over and I ended up with a pink-loving, baby-doll carrying, high-heel wearing princess.

So which is stronger: Nature or nurture?

Usually people equate this question to child development. Do little girls play with dolls instead of trucks because that’s their nature or because they’ve been conditioned that way? Do boys like to slam each other into the carpet in a winner-take-all wrestling battle because their dads make them or because they naturally feel that competitiveness within them?

However, is there another side to the question?

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Today I’m posting at Ungrind.org about a different kind of nature vs. nurture debate.

I’d love to know what you think about the Battle Within.

Follow Me

My childhood was filled with Sunday School songs and stories about Jesus calling His disciples to “follow Him.” I was challenged to be a “fisher of men” like them.

As I look back, I realize how numb I was to the reality of what those stories were saying. These men were in the middle of their normal, daily lives. They weren’t looking for God to do something huge. They weren’t fasting and praying for direction, or impatiently biding their time until God uprooted them. They were fishermen, tax collectors, and everyday people.

Today I’m posting on Ungrind.org about the unexpected ways God can move in our life…