Journal for Christa—
Sadness often creeps over our world and soul and nearly sucks the breath right out of us. But, have you ever noticed the effect of new life—the very hope that children exude? It’s as if they dance to elfin music—eyes sparkling, with an impish grin.
I’ve witnessed the birth of two babies—my daughters’ firstborns. Both were preceded by long vigils—vigils of different sorts.
For Melody it was a long trek all through a stormy night. As I drove through the starless, moonless night, amidst sheets of rain—at times my only visual the tail lights of the semi I followed for endless miles—an urgency that only a mother can sense for a daughter in labor stood every nerve and fiber on edge in my body.
Three weeks ago as Jay and I left school at midday for the short drive across town, we laughed at how quickly this baby would come—but it was not to be. Joy labored through the afternoon and evening. Jay finally went home to await my call, and I sacked out on a couch in the lobby—a vigil once more—until about midnight.
Now, pushing out babies is a lot of hard work—woman’s work. And it’s an arena where women kind of arise in camaraderie. Between two of Joy’s contractions, her doctor looked around and stated, “Can we get any more nurses in here?” And one perky nurse of the seven said, “Nope, we’re all here!” And, why wouldn’t they be? For every birth where a baby takes his first breath is a miracle. And who doesn’t want to see a miracle?
There are no words to describe my fear and urgency with each of their pushes, and the relief and joy of those babies’ first cries. A mix of feelings that escape words.
There’s something about life—new life—that reminds us that
life itself is a miracle—
a wonder beyond compare—
and all the reason we need to walk through the saddest of days—
Look into a little one’s face today. It will make you smile. It will give you strength.