come and listen

We are born
by some strange, miraculous conception.
With friends having babies, I cannot get this mystery out of my mind. I float between two extremes : immense joy and complete terror.

How on earth are we trusted to bring other people into this world?

I hear people talking ... "How many do they have now?" Almost like children are property, or simple things. Oh... these little beings are precious beyond measure, and we are somewhat recklessly creating them and hastily ushering them into this horrific world that we ourselves are struggling to navigate and come to terms with.

Dramatic? I would think so! Have you heard what can happen to a child? Do you remember what happened to you?

Yes... "people are fragile things you should know by now. Be careful what you put them through."

And as I was contemplating the drama and awfulness of it all, I couldn't help but let peace peak through and mingle with my anxiety.

We are miracles. From dust we were brought forth and to the dust we shall return. Our time is short but can be sweet for certain, should we so desire to fight long and hard for ourselves and the ones we love. This mess of a planet is able to destroy us and delight us, break us and build us. How can we witness the powerful, awe-inspiring beauty of a dazzling sunset, then hear news of the latest mass-shooting and not sense the quakes of an eternal battle between love and hate, goodness and darkness?

We are born as children of a vast, vast universe. As vulnerable as we are, so strong is He. As we painfully bring life after life into this time-capsuled reality, may we find freedom in knowing that this is not the end. With each cry and first time breath of harsh humanity, may we continue to release these tiny people (and ourselves) into the arms of the unknown, the unpredictable, the Un-perishable.

Though tragedy takes, may we trust we're not left empty-handed.
Though sickness suffocates, may we trust in a final healing.
Though all may abandon, may we trust Love is here.
And we will find love there, too.

Though we are daily dying, may we know : we will rise, as Christ was raised to life.




[ PS: this story brings hopeful tears to my eyes: everything matters.]

Rachel's wells