Andrew is taking the kids to the circus today, along with his brother Matt and their three boys.  I am not joining them, for a couple of reasons.  Mainly because we are cheapskates and Andrew got the absolutely cheapest seats available, up in the rafters, and I didn’t think I could stand sitting up there for two hours in my condition.  Also, to make the cheap seats even cheaper, we used a Happenings coupon for buy one admission get one free, but you can only get up to eight admissions, which would have been too many to get extra extra cheap.

So, it became a “triple-date with Daddy” and I get some time off to myself.  Which is a little bit sad, because I actually really enjoy the circus.  When it’s a good circus.  Usually Ringling Bros. puts on a pretty good show (not that they’ll be able to see it very well from the rafters).  I mainly am interested in the acrobats, trapeze artists, etc.  I’m not too into the dancing elephants and horses, or even the guy in the tiger cage (I’ve got a cat at home–that’s close enough).  What I really like are the acts that you can barely stand to watch–the ones where you find yourself holding your breath because common sense tells you that what they are doing is physically impossible and certain to result in disaster.   Only your past experience with this sort of performance and your trust that the performers really do know what they are doing provides a certain amount of assurance that everything will be okay.  Still, you remember the stories of accidents and tragedies that really have happened at things like this, and only when the act is over and the performers safely back on the ground, bowing to the applause of the crowd, do you finally unclench your teeth and breathe a sigh of relief.

I can’t help but see a parallel between these death-defying acts and my current situation awaiting childbirth.  Right now, we are just beginning the drum roll.  However, we have no idea when the act is going to be over and we can get to the part with the fanfare and applause.  Have you ever seen an act where they start the drum roll, and everybody gets all tense and excited, and then there’s some sort of techinical glitch, and you’re sitting there waiting and waiting for something exciting to happen, but nothing’s really going on except that darn drum roll?  It’s amazing how anticipation, if drawn out for too long, turns into irritation.  (Let’s just say I’ve been a little snappy lately.)

Eventually, when the big performance really does get underway, we’ll all be holding our breath, eager but afraid, until we get to the big finish.  We trust in the doctors, in our past experience, and in the Lord, but in the end, nothing is safe until we land with our feet firmly on the ground and say, “Ta-Duh!”