A couple Sundays ago, our accompanist stopped me between services and asked whether she could have a ride to our all-staff meeting the following Tuesday. Of course. We made our arrangements and I thought nothing of it.

When I arrived at her house she called out her front door, “C’mon in, I’ll just be a few more minutes.” I walked in to find the entire staff there—“Surprise!” And I was. A baby shower.

Actually a mom-shower—most of the gifts were for me! I received some lovely things, including a generous gift certificate for a chi-chi day spa. I’m having a ball trying to decide what to do and when. Should I get a pregnancy massage or pedicure beforehand, then save the rest for a little something after the baby is born? Or blow it all at once? Do I want the chocolate body wrap, the peppermint pedicure or the balneotherapy with anti-stress crystals? It’s an exquisite decision with which to be faced.

C received an adorable ragdoll from an Appalachian craft/ministry organization, which she loves. At first she named the doll Jesus. I did enjoy that name while it lasted (“Do you want to take Jesus for Show and Tell?”), but then she settled on Lizzie.

Last Saturday was shower #2, a grand affair at a church member’s house. When I say grand, I mean chicken puff pies, crab cakes, seafood bisque on rice, a variety of sandwiches, pasta salad and green salad, bright fruit and crunchy crudite, punch and spiced tea, and a giant sheet cake with a sugar-printed picture (how do they do that?) of C and me with the words, “We love [lastname] girls.”

When Shower Hostess approached me months ago about this event, I knew that a) I would end up inviting a lot of people—a pastor’s invite list is a complicated decision; and that b) there is very little that we really need to be showered with for this second child. And the thought of dozens of outfits, books and toys made my head swim. At the same time, Hurricane Katrina had hit recently and I was aware of how many children go without even the basics. It just didn't feel right. So we encouraged folks to make a donation to our church’s orphanage in Kenya that houses children whose parents have died of AIDS. It felt right. Some people still felt called to give a gift to the reverendbaby, and that was wonderful too, but it makes me so happy to think of those kids in Kenya being cared for in honor of our child.

It is very difficult for me to receive, to be the center of attention in that way. (Can I get a witness?) Put me in a pulpit in front of hundreds of people and I’m at home. Put me in a room of women showering me or my child with gifts and I feel mentally gangly. I feel overwhelmed—“I don’t deserve this.” I sometimes have a physical reaction to it. Several years ago I helped lead a women’s retreat and there was so much love being poured out there, on me and on others, that by the time I got home I felt like I had the flu. My clothes actually hurt.

“Grace… is a thought that changed the world,” writes U2. And “grace travels outside of karma.” I "get" that better than I used to. But I still don’t fully get it. I did manage to enjoy being showered though, and so far, no flu.