It was December 3rd, and my daughter Kassi was in labor. She had chosen to do an in-home delivery. Watching my daughter struggle to bring her daughter into the world created a personal pain I’d never experienced. I held her hand in a death grip as if to pass my own strength onto her. She was getting tired. Her eyes searched my face as a desperate cry escaped her lips. "Mom, I can't do this."

"Yes you can, honey. You're strong. You're almost there. You've got this. Your baby is almost here." Inside though, I wasn't as confident. "What if something was wrong? What if she truly couldn't do it?" I glanced toward the midwife, looking for assurance. She nodded without saying a word. I had no choice but to trust. We were too far into labor to get to a hospital now.

I started praying silently, but then paused when my daughter experienced another contraction. When she caught her breath, she whispered, "Keep praying Mom." Chills ran down my spine. I'd been praying silently. How could she have heard me? I began praying aloud. Then the most amazing thing happened. I had the privilege of praying our beautiful granddaughter Tilly into the world and praising God when she took her first breath.

Three weeks later, I found myself once again coaching through labor. This time though, I was trying to help my mother as she attempted to cross over into heaven. Mom's eyes were glued to mine. She could no longer speak, so I was doing my best to anticipate her needs. I held her hand, just like I had my daughter's weeks ago. "You've got this Mom; you can do this. You're almost there, go give Jesus a big hug." Inside though, everything in me wanted to crumble. Saying goodbye was going to be very hard. As the hours passed, Mom labored to free her spirit from her body. Then the most amazing thing happened. My siblings and I had the privilege of praying over her as she took her last breath and went to her heavenly home.

Laboring is a part of being born as well as a part of dying. It's also part of the season we call life. As a result of the original sin, in Genesis 3, God determined that man, by the sweat of his brow, would labor to work the ground to survive. For women, there would be painful labor in having children.

Labor is in day-to-day living. When the enemy tries to tell us we're not worthy, we must work to remind ourselves we belong to the King of Kings. When a loved one chooses hate and strife, we must labor to return love and turn the other cheek. It takes hard work to ward off the enemy's attacks. Equally difficult is doing the work of the Lord. Being a foster parent knowing there will be a painful goodbye. Venturing to a foreign country to serve orphans while abandoning the comforts of home. Serving food to the poor while recognizing food won't begin to satisfy their needs. Holding the hand of a parent who has buried their child, or praying over a sick friend who needs fresh hope.

In between the first breath and the last, we labor. It is in the labor where we leave a legacy for Christ, create joy and meaning, instilling values for the next generation. No matter how difficult it is, as long as we are laboring for the Lord, it will be worth it.

"Therefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain." 1 Corinthians 15:58 (NIV).

"I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:14 (ESV).