Jesus Met Me in the Delivery Room

Jesus met me in the delivery room. 

Right there, lying on that bed. 

I wasn’t in a fancy church on a Sunday morning (I mean, I was wearing a hospital gown and not at all in my “Sunday best”). Sure, there was a Holy Bible in my bathroom (next to the toilet, which is that weird?), but this is where He met me. 

And boy, did I need Him there. 

With every contraction, I recited a psalm. 

With every pain and labor shake, I prayed, “Lord, give me strength.”

With every push, I focused on Him and how He would take the pain from me as soon as it was all over. 

And when I finally delivered my sweet babe, I prayed. 

I thanked Him for the gift of this child and for giving me the strength to endure the pains of labor. 

I held my child, looking at that sweet face, and I felt close to Jesus. 

Jesus was with me in the delivery room. 

He’s with me every day, of course. 

But His strength was on full display as I laid in that hospital bed. 

And I don’t know how I could’ve done it without Him. 

“A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.” -John 16:21