Mike Paschall . com

What you’re looking at here is the demolished cupcake of Gracie, our 19-month-old granddaughter (our fourth of four grandchildren). Pretty, huh?

My eldest daughter, Nicole, and her husband, Steve, hosted our family this past weekend for a “gender reveal” party. Seems to be the fashionable rage these days. Actually, it’s very cool. Everyone gets an official guess of the baby’s gender, and then at some point during the party, a blue or pink item is introduced to reveal the sex of the baby.

I’ve heard of a few fun ways to do this, but my tribe rolls with food. So Gracie got the first cupcake. Her job was to smash open her massive chocolate sugarbomb (a beautiful JenDen creation), thus revealing the color of the frosting on the inside.

So picture our grandbaby, too young to understand the magnitude of her role, carefully examining her treat. IT TOOK FOREVER! Her mom had to keep scraping off icing until Gracie finally poked her finger inside the cupcake to reveal the bright PINK filling. Everyone screamed with joy! Poor Gracie exploded into hysterical tears!   It was sensory overload! The combination of her busted cupcake and the family cheering in celebration was just too much for her. The poor girl completely lost it on us. Not sure I blame her.

Here is the video if you got a minute: 

As we were passing out all of the congratulatory kisses, I suddenly heard my 35-year-old voice in the spirit, or in a vision, or maybe it was just one of those strong memories that resurfaces like an air-thirsty whale. As I looked at Nicole, she was suddenly 12 years old again.   She’d just asked me to pray for her. Her monthly cycles were brutal for such a young girl.   After I prayed for her discomfort, I told her, “That just means you’ll have fat, juicy babies.” Don’t ask me where that came from. I don’t know. It just popped out, and it became my standard response on cramp days. I’d usually always get a smile out of her whenever I said it, but she wasn’t having any fun at the time with all of that.

As I remembered it all, clear as day, I choked back my emotion. I couldn’t let the other boys see me cry. But the words “fat juicy babies” were pounding over and over in my heart. I couldn’t help but think of the journey it took us to get here.

Before I disclose something very personal and sacred about our family, let me put a disclaimer on this. I don’t know any other way to say this, but God has kept His word to us, and we totally celebrate His goodness. BUT, we’ve done nothing to really deserve it. Does that make sense? We’re not special and we’re not deserving of specialized treatment from God. At times we’ve been faithful and at times we’ve been like wandering lambs, afraid and exposed. I’m not sure why any of what I’m about to tell you happened. But I think about it all of the time.

Is anyone who gives birth, adopts, or raises a child ever really deserving of that child? Think about it for a minute. For a woman’s womb to receive the seed of a man, thus stewarding the miraculous mystery of life and soul, no matter how that life got started in that womb is way above our pay grade. It’s heaven-and-earth stuff. All of it is supernatural grace. I just think you’re being obstinately blind if you can’t see the Divine thumbprint in mankind’s ability to reproduce life.

There were times throughout our journey where all we had to hold on to was hope, and that my friends can be at times like climbing Everest using only dental floss for rope.

There are many women who are unable to conceive for a multitude of reasons. And again I have to say that “not deserving” or “no merit” isn’t a part of that equation either. The answers to our questions of “why” or “why not” are just simply beyond us in another dimension altogether.

My point in saying this is so that some dear woman who is still desperately clinging to hope will be encouraged and receive from Him what she needs to continue to endure and trust for as long as necessary. I wish I could issue guarantees, but there are none. He is God and He is love. Blessed be the Name of the Lord. And until He says something else to you, hold on to hope, honey. Hold on! Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

Nicole and Steve tried for many years to have a baby. Nothing was working. Three failed artificial insemination attempts and one failed in-vitro fertilization led to all kinds of disappointment, financial expense, and heartache for the whole family—especially for Nicole and Steve.

My daughter is a monster in the Spirit. Not many people know her that way but, good Lord, put her in a room where the Ghost is moving and she radiates like the sun! Most ministry people don’t have a clue of what she’s capable of. I’ve seen how she operates when she gets the nod from spiritual authority. Whoa, Jesus! Both of my natural daughters are wired this way.

Those seasons of trying, begging, and crying out, and not getting what she really wanted in her heart was devastating—almost crippling. Steve was also being brutalized in the process. And honestly, I was personally confused as hell! We all were. “Really, God? Fat juicy babies! What gives here?” This was a kid who would breastfeed her Cabbage Patch dolls when she was 3 years old. She’s had mommy juice for a really long time.

After four major heartbreaks, each equally devastating, they rolled the dice again. By this time, all our family could do was whisper in absolute surrender, “We need you, Lord.” In early December 2011, Gracie was conceived in a petri dish.   We have a picture of the two embryos within hours of their conception (see below). Both were implanted in Nicole’s womb a few days later. Two planted, but only one developed to term. The mystery declared once again: “Some things are beyond you.” We had to rest with that.  Grace Irene Brewer was born in August 2012.

The mystery of it all is bigger than any of us can comprehend. Gracie is beautiful and perfect. A gift. A life. A baby. Pure grace.

I guess doctors have to give you odds on this kind of stuff, but the numbers were not good for any of the procedures. It was all risk and a lot of faith. Scary as hell, in fact! Couples going through these kinds of trials need your prayers and your tears. It’s a hard time, but worth the risk every time. I’m convinced the same can be said for foster care and adoption as well. It’s a risk. But the reward is so worth it!

The numbers Nicole and Steve got for natural conception possibilities were 1 in 1,000. So remove the words “good chance” here and replace them with “next to impossible.” Not happy news.

But, Gracie needed a brudder or a sissy, so Nicole and Steve had decided that round three of in-vitro was going to happen eventually. It was just a matter of when. Patti and I kind of felt like we would hear something in the fall of ’14. We were wrong.

Back in early February, our friends, Michael and Kathy Hindes, were in town for the evening. Nicole knew we had friends visiting with us, so it was really weird when she requested immediate Facetime with the both of us. We took the call in the back bedroom. We saw Steve’s and Nicole’s faces, and then a positive pregnancy stick! “It just happened,” they cried excitedly.

Patti lost control and fell onto the bed in sobs. I was yelling so loud my throat hurt the next day. I could hear the Hindes’ laughing on the other side of the house. They immediately knew what the commotion must be all about.  They knew what we had been through.

Since then, the daughter quarantined Pops and Nana’s communication. There were ultra sounds, blood work, and other things to check out before we were to move to full blown party mode. But, don’t check around too close to see whom all Nana might have told.   I don’t think those numbers are too good either.

Two months have passed and last weekend we watched in loving adoration as our beautiful Gracie dove into her pink cupcake.   Our eyes filled with tears and overwhelming awe. From the days of painful longing to soft moments of cuddling fat, juicy babies, He’s been our peace and the source. Here the words just fail to form. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

She’ll be here in September, a new sister for Gracie—a new cousin for Isabel, Jones, and Lewis. All is grace. All is good.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord.  Amen.

MDP