I squinted my groggy eyes in the direction of the digital clock perched strategically at the side of my bed. The fluorescent digits told me it was 1:20 a.m.
I tried to take a deep breath, but my heart was pounding against my rib cage. I wished my anxiety could be blamed on a bad dream, but I knew the text message I had received a few hours earlier was reality:
“She has gone into labour at 25 weeks. Need lots of prayer please.”
The message had come from a friend’s husband in South Africa. His wife was pregnant with triplets, and her contractions had started far too early.
I wish I could truthfully say that my first reaction was a godly one, but instead, the first three words in my response were: “Oh shucks. Okay.” I did remember to include that “Our God is in control,” as the lyrics to the song by Steven Curtis Chapman came to mind in that moment … but I’m pretty sure the reminder was for me, not them.