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by Kimberly Knowle-Zeller


As I write this it’s currently July.

A hot July in Missouri.

A hot July in which I am pregnant.

I’m in the last few weeks of my third trimester, awaiting the birth of our second child.


I’m not sure whether it’s the summer, the heat, having a toddler at home, or not working full-time in the church at this time, but the waiting seems harder. It seems heavier.


I’ve waited for plenty before, and my family will tell you that I’m not a patient person.


I’m the person who once they have an idea for a gift for someone will have a hard time keeping it secret.


I’m the person who used to open her Christmas gifts before Christmas by carefully pulling the tape off and putting it back in its place.


I’m the person who likes to flip to the end of the book to see what happens.


I don’t like to wait!


And here I am waiting for new life to burst forth from my body and I have no control over the timing.


So as the days linger on I’m beginning to take on a new understanding of waiting.


I’m cherishing this time of waiting and hoping and praying.

I’m cherishing the gifts that come from waiting.

I’m cherishing the precious gifts that are in front of me.


There’s a deep spirituality to waiting.


I feel it in the depths of my body – both literally and spiritually.

As I’m anticipating the birth of this child my body is preparing to go into labor.

Our bodies know something of the power of waiting and stretching and opening.

I’m learning to trust my body and its timing.

I’m learning to trust the mystery that is being broken and poured out.


As I’m anticipating the birth of this child, I’m giving thanks for the moments in each day to be present. To be fully present to my body. To give myself permission to rest and to let the dishes pile up and the dust accumulate. To give myself permission to lift up my feet. To give myself permission to acknowledge the work that goes into carrying new life.


In these weeks of waiting I’m grateful for the One who has been with me from my beginning. The One who breathed life into my mother’s womb to bring me into this world. To the One who continues to breathe life into my spirit and soul. To the One who is cradling this new life on the cusp of entering the world.


Thanks be to God for this time. This life. This breath. This child. This world.



Kimberly Knowle-Zeller is an ordained ELCA pastor, mother of a toddler, and spouse of an ELCA pastor. She lives with her family in Cole Camp, MO. Her website is


Image: Pixabay


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