Riotous and rapturous with a bit of raucous. Those are the words on the street today.
In the circle of life with its cycles and seasons, it’s the “life” part that has me throwing confetti and shouting, “HooRAY!!”
It was at a family hoo-ha last spring that a small, pig-tailed niece announced to those assembled that, “We’re getting a baby at our house.” Into the stunned silence that followed, someone finally mustered enough coherence to say, “It’s not April Fools, is it?”
No, it wasn’t, and yes, they were, and so we rejoiced together.
Their mama, grinning quiet, told the story. Told us how shocked they were. How she’d been two weeks away from making the phone calls that would take her back to school. How the stick had turned pink, rocking their world. How she was 38 and the baby was in school, now, all day, every day. How she’d held the news close, working it through ’til she could embrace the truth of this holy interruption.
Check, check, and check. I knew how she felt, being 38. How she felt, finally having everyone in school. How the earth shook when the stick turned pink, and how it takes a mama and a daddy some time to work it through, to receive such news; to say, finally, “All is well and all will be well.” I knew.
Then came the Saturday night that we walked, eager, happy, through the gleaming halls of the hospital to meet this precious baby; this unexpected gift; this fragrant, swaddled blessing. Sitting there, I held our tiny niece fresh from Heaven and looked into her face.
“God knows what He’s about,” I said to her mama. “She’ll be such a blessing to all of you.” And as I held her, our own “holy interruption;” our own “unexpected blessing” slipped up, patting his brand-new cousin’s bundled form, welcoming her to the family circle.
“I love you,” I whispered in Leah Kristine’s ear as I gave her back to Mommy.
Now, seven months later, Baby Leah is pink and healthy. She sits in her high chair, that darling little chunk of cement, looking for all the world like her two big sisters. They love her, and she adores them. She doesn’t know yet that they really can’t walk on water, but she’ll find out, I suspect, when she drools on someone’s Barbie. She’s a blessing for sure, just like our own holy surprise. And together, we all give thanks to the Father of Lights from whom come all good and perfect gifts.
Question for you: What unexpected blessing are you thankful for today?