A Strong, Kind Man and A Baby Girl
Sharing the vision and the promise God gave me when I turned 30 - and what it's come to mean today.
A Strong, Kind Man and A Baby Girl
Over a decade ago, just before my thirtieth birthday, I was on vacation in the Outer Banks of North Carolina and out for a morning run on the beach. It was early, the only time running was bearable for the heat, and the beach was largely still deserted.
I was running along, headphones in and jamming out, likely to Linkin Park given the era though I can’t be sure, when I sensed something.
It was as though there was a shadow over my right shoulder, like someone was behind me. I kept spinning around to look back and finding only surf and sand. And yet, there was a presence.
Finally, it pieced together, and an inner voice said, “Ohhh, God is here. Pay attention.”
I kept on running down the beach. I felt my brain slow and quiet, and I felt as though I simply opened up to what might be. It was very peaceful, relaxed. That posture of open hands comes to mind. Curiosity but not spilling into eagerness.
After a while, I spied a couple figures on the empty stretch of sand in the distance. As I approached, I saw it was a man with a baby girl, presumably his daughter. They were out just the two of them, both in bathing suits, but unencumbered by beach equipment. It was a simple outing between father and daughter. I imagined mom sleeping in, perhaps traveling with the in-laws and in need of a reprieve, or back at the house prepping breakfast with friends. The man was in good shape; I remember noting biceps.
“Cute,” I thought and kept running.
Again, I saw some figures on the beach ahead. It was another man and a baby girl.
I kept running.
Up ahead, there was a third set of figures. As I approached, I saw it was again a man and a baby girl.
How remarkable that of all the people on the beach that morning, it would be three sets of men with their baby girls? I had seen not another soul. Clearly, this was no accident. But I couldn’t see what it meant, so I asked God to explain.
And He responded, “This is what I have in store for you: a strong, kind man and a baby girl.”
At 29, I wanted so badly to be dating, to have some attention from a male that I also liked. This promise, this declaration, this prophesy was a welcome delight.
I ran back to the house and climbed into the hot tub, still praying and processing this moment. I thought through some of the implications of this promise and asked God, “What about my career and my books?” I was chasing publication, even then.
God responded, again so clearly: “You already have faith in your career and your books. Today, I am giving you faith in your family. Your thirties will be about your family.”
It was true. I was confident in my PR work, and I possessed a strange patience for my writing and quest to get published. But when it came to relationships, I was riddled with doubt, fear, resentment, anger. I felt overlooked. But now I had this promise – from God directly! I didn’t take it so literally as “your husband is showing up tomorrow,” but more so that God was active in my life and shaping my path with good things. That was enough.
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The years passed. A strong, kind man did not present himself in any obvious fashion, and my desire for a baby grew.
As time went on and this promise went on unfulfilled, I routinely asked myself if that vision on the beach was real and true. Maybe it was a hallucination. Or my subconscious telling me stories I wanted to hear. But again and again, though my doubts exist, they do not win. I believe it happened. I saw it. I heard what He said.
Maybe I didn’t hear God correctly.
I can’t fully explain what it’s like to hear (sense?) God speak to you. For me, it has been very clear, simple statements that almost vibrant with resonance. I receive them peacefully, as though so deeply focused that worry and pretense are stripped away.
But maybe I didn’t interpret Him correctly. If my thirties were meant to be about my family, maybe he meant my parents and my siblings and their children? Because I did invest a lot into those relationships through my thirties. But that doesn’t really speak to the strong, kind man and the baby girl. I think about the film “Under The Tuscan Sun,” when Frances realizes that her hopes for a wedding and a baby in her renovated home had come true; it just wasn’t her wedding or baby. Maybe that’s what would happen for me? The promise would be fulfilled in an unexpected way.
After a time, and a lot of prayer, I decided to move forward with having a baby on my own (potentially a whole other story for you). I waited until I turned 40 before proceeding with my first IUI procedure, so that I gave God the entirety of my thirties to bring forward that strong, kind man. He didn’t.
Allow me to be clear in my tone here. He didn’t bring forward that strong, kind man, but I don’t feel like that promise is broken. I am oddly not disappointed that the vision didn’t come true in the precise fashion I originally interpreted. I simply don’t fully understand yet, and I’m good with that. I trust.
As I continued my journey to have a baby on my own, I needed to select a sperm donor. I was given a list of reputable sperm banks and started going through their online databases. As you might guess, it was OVERWHELMING to the max. I had had a lot of practice with online dating, and you kind of inherently know (or think you know) what you want in a guy, but WHAT ON EARTH do you look for in a sperm donor?! Good genes? Sure, but truly what? Look for the stats of someone you would have dated? I don’t know. Some sites had pictures of the donors only as children, which felt a little creepy; others had both pictures as adults and children.
I floundered for months. I’d pull up a site, get overwhelmed and close out the window. None of it felt right.
One day, as I was again attempting to search through a database, it hit me. I knew exactly what to look for: a strong, kind man. Suddenly, the search was easy, and I very confidently selected the right donor for me. There was something in this person’s demeanor, from his pictures to his writing that gently emanated strength and kindness.
Later, when I was pregnant and in the ultrasound appointment to learn the baby’s gender, I was incredibly nervous. I had already mentally walked through it all, boy or girl. As much as I wanted a girl, I knew I could be happy with a boy. God had said he had a baby girl in store for me, but there hadn’t been a man yet, so maybe the baby girl piece wasn’t true either? No. I shook those doubts off. If I was having a boy, it didn’t mean the vision was wrong or that God didn’t love me or wasn’t real. I wasn’t going to allow a gender reveal to poke holes in my faith. I was stronger than that.
The ultrasound technician finally announced what you already know: I was having a girl.
Now as I sit here with my baby girl at home, does that mean I received my strong, kind man and my baby girl, as promised? But in an unexpected, round-about way? I’m not sure.
My gut tells me the vision is not yet complete.
I’m still open to what else may be.
The Story Behind The Story: “Meal Train Mix-Up”
To date with Plot Twists, I have not truly struggled to get a story out for you. I have long suspected it will one day happen. I mean, how many stories can one write, on deadline, no less? We’ll see.
Last week was almost the end. Welllll, that’s being a little dramatic.
Last week was the first time I truly struggled to get a story together. I was jet-lagged from my trip to Paris, weak from a stomach bug and actively drowning in laundry. Twice, I sat down to write and just as I got in maybe the start of a rhythm that might lead to an idea, Celine would wake from her nap.
I had rejected resurrecting an old essay entitled, “Meeting Men on Planes,” postponed a cool concept around two truths and a lie, and finally settled on this half nugget, found in old notes: “A meal train mix-up, someone delivers a meal to a house, but they have the wrong something and it's comical and notable.”
Okurrr, as Cardi B would say. I can work with that.
But Celine was awake and needed to nurse, so writing with a laptop wasn’t happening. Usually when I nurse her, I voice dictate texts, so why not a story? Ooo, what if the story was told via texts?!! Then, it was on.
Below is a snapshot of my voice-dictated texts for this story. There are spots where I don’t understand what I was saying (“I’m a lot of the lights were out”), so I left them in as is, for authenticity.
Picture me speaking these lines aloud, half acting them out and half whispering, because Celine currently takes issue with people who are too loud while she’s eating.
One Thing
one quick recommendation
One thing is that I went to Paris in May, and I found two things there you have to know about. It’s my column, I can do what I want!
La Bonne Brosse
“The keratin-rich boar bristle hair brush draws natural moisture from your roots and distributes it evenly throughout the lengths, naturally moisturizing your hair from root to tip for immediate, long-lasting shine.”
The handle is acetate, the same material used for eyeglass frames, and the twisted handles topped with the gold stamped bottom are simply beautiful vanity toppers. Expect my hair to look even more lustrous in the very near future.
Cyrillus
While in Paris, I stumbled on children’s clothing brand Cyrillus and promptly lost my mind, as depicted in the image above.
To outfit Celine, I’ve been looking for the “Veronica Beard of children’s clothing,” ie well-made, smart classics with a twist, and Cyrillus just might be it. This blue dress is so adorable, it will make you weep. And picture Celine in this top, these shorts and this Liberty fabric vest. I die.
The brand also has a women’s collection, but I didn’t make it to that shop in person. I’m curious about the line, and this tee in particular, but didn’t have the same coup de coeur as with the children’s collection.
Parting Shot
sharing some of my photography from over the years
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This is beautiful Elizabeth. Thank you for sharing.