Ryanne Molinari

Upon moving to the Midwest, I had to learn the difference between a tornado watch and a tornado warning. A “watch” means the necessary conditions are in place, so meteorologists are keeping an eye out for tornadic activity. A “warning” means that a tornado has been spotted and is an active threat.

This week—week 39 of my pregnancy—we are on “baby watch.” As with a tornado watch, I’m carrying on mostly as usual, but with heightened awareness and a thrum of underlying anticipation.

During tornado watches, I tend to tidy up our patio furniture, check on our basement shelter, and pray that the oaks surrounding our house have it in them to weather another storm. During these “baby watch” days, I’ve done much the same. I’ve laundered countless tiny outfits and washcloths and blankets. I’ve mopped every inch of the house—including the walls. I’ve packed and repacked my hospital bag. I touched up the paint on our baseboards, scoured the inside of our microwave, and replaced our toilet seats. Nothing is safe from my nesting rampage.

But, at the end of each day’s preparations, I enjoy a sense of calm satisfaction. I look around my freshly-tidied kitchen and scan my checked-off to-dos, and think: “Yes, good. He could come now and that would be fine.”

This watchfulness has a spiritual dimension to it. It is no coincidence that Scripture describes the last days in terms of groaning, labor, and childbirth. Like a woman anticipating the birth of a child, we can’t pinpoint when and how our Lord will come back. We can’t mark it on our calendar. We cannot know when the Lord will return, but we can be watchful.

Whenever I ask my doctor to predict when my son will arrive, she smiles and replies, “It could be this afternoon or two weeks from now. But it’ll be soon. Do you have your bag packed? Is your car seat installed?”

Jesus is likewise vague but urgent. He is coming soon and we must prepare. But what does “soon” mean in eternity’s economy? The best I can understand it, “soon” means get ready. It means treat every day as a preparation day. As with tornadoes and babies, it means carry on but keep a careful watch.

A friend of mine once told me that he asks himself at the end of each day, “If I died tonight, would I be satisfied with how I lived today?” I initially attributed this mildly morbid habit to his being a medieval scholar. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that this should be how all Christians think. We should make a habit of examining ourselves and our days, not just in terms of death but also resurrection life. If we died tonight, would we have spent our final day fruitfully? If Christ returned today, would we be prepared to meet him?

Ideally, we would look around our homes and within our hearts each evening and think, “Yes, He could come tonight and that would be fine.” If creation is already groaning with labor pains, we should be like “nesting” mothers. We should be tidying up and taking stock, making the best use of whatever time remains.

Realistically, I am aware that no matter how carefully I prepare, something will be left undone. I will likely end up going to the hospital with a load of laundry unfinished or a thank-you note unwritten. Likewise, we will meet our Lord with things left undone. Only his work is fully finished. But, in the meantime, may we have the mindset of a woman awaiting her first real contraction: watchful and diligent, eagerly preparing for the renewal of all things.