Saturday, January 2, 2010
How strange that Bredon should come to me in transition, I have thought. How deep does this go, this incredible heart-story God began writing with the beginning of my birth pains those two weeks before my baby was born?
"Wait, hope," the message that came, hope for life, for a story I couldn't have written, Bredon's story, a gift of God's choosing.
That hope came after waiting, that waiting led to transition, and birth came during change when I cried out against it - my heart hurts with the wonder of it, that joy could come into such fear and heartache and desperation as swept over me during transition.
I had no control in transition, but God... The thought trails off; I duck with embarrassment at my fear, but this is the story. It is what it is.
It was only twenty minutes of incredible pain promised to Eve lifetimes ago; I brought forth my firstborn son, and he filled my hands and my arms and my heart and I knew what Mary felt watching her baby on the Cross and wondered how I would ever give my son back to my God, to his God for His plan - for he will be His, I am certain.
Now Piper is huge, and my mother's heart wonders how she grew so fast - was she so big before Bredon came with his little body that fits into my hands and against my breast? When did her hair get so long, her heart grow so old? I forgot that she had learned those words; did I notice that she had?
Does she still need me?
She's a little independent, but I know. I know she is pushing away because she is vulnerable right now. I do that too, and I reach for her tentatively and make time as I can in the baby-holding to hold this little girl who grew up in five hours two weeks ago.
Laura says that Christmas decorations shouldn't come down yet, that Epiphany is gift-time for us to grasp insight into the reality of Christmas-birth.
God with us.
I haven't removed my decorations. Mary's pondering must have lasted beyond Jesus' birth. How much she had to ponder - angels, shepherds, kings, priest, prophetess - all come to worship her Son, God's Son, and she a new mother in a torn country desperate for Messiah-salvation they didn't understand...
But I understand. I worship quietly, acknowledging Him in ups and in downs, trusting His heart of love toward me in spite of my fear and my struggle with the changes that surround me, that occur within me.
The waiting is over.
The realization begins...
(Image © Informal Moments Photography)