Pssst, I have a secret and I'm not gonna tell you.
Remember those days in elementary school when keeping secrets meant purposely dropping hints so your friends knew you knew something they did not? You were queen of recess for that one afternoon as all the playground consulted with you to learn your secret. Best friends were dropped, all bets were off, nations were divided and rejoined under the auspices of who was (and who was not) worthy of your secret. And if you had a genuinely good secret to tell you could set yourself up with power and influence on the monkey bars for the rest of the year. You had to be careful though, because that fired burned in both directions and God-forbid if someone scooped you! I don't know that there was a shunning worse than the overrated secret, except perhaps the loud fart. But I digress.
I was never good with the secret game. I never seemed to be "in the know", and when I was I genuinely didn't want anyone to know my secret (like being the one who farted). I liked immediately sharing whatever juicy tidbit I had with my girlfriends as quickly as possible. I would rush to school, race to the playground, run home to get on the phone, whatever was necessary in order to talk, talk, talk about my secret. I have always preferred talking, not secreting.
My aversion to secrets remains to this day. I can barely contain my enthusiasm waiting for Christmas. I would actually prefer to tell someone exactly what I want for a birthday present rather than manage the suspense of a surprise. Because of all these factors I knew I could never hold in this secret:
Christopher and I have been eternally rewarded with a microscopic blessing due in April. What a mighty God we serve!