Nine months. Nine months of sometimes gentle, sometimes more extreme discomfort. Nine months of carrying you inside of me- right up under my lungs and my heart, sustained by my life. Nine months and then excruciating pain, pain deeply rooted in the power of some kind of ferocious motherly love. Necessity brought you out of that place, necessity, longing, hope, love, and lots and lots of pain. Deep, unsettling, unbearable, and persistent. The joy of parenthood is a deeply uprooting, ferociously unsettling, bitterly wrenching sort of joy.
This is a short thought, though there are countless other thoughts that could be added on this subject. Right now, with you, my friend, this is where we find ourselves sitting. Our pain, all those years ago, and our pain through all our child’s years for them, seems like nothing compared to seeing them now in the grips of desolating pain. And our hearts are being mercilessly squeezed by those same fingers as we watch, unable to protect and heal. How we would both endure their pain for them, over and over again, to see them healthy, happy, and whole. To see touchable joy, light and burdenless, smooth and unscarred. Restoration of body, mind, and soul. How we long for a great Reckoning with brokenness. All the bad that has unbalanced and plagued them, all the good in them that has suffered and struggled. What we would go through, what we have gone through to see those things made right for them. To see them fully live, unhindered and unbroken.
As our hearts are waiting to be whole, as we pray, watch, and wait for them to be whole, know that my thoughts and prayers are with you and yours, just as they are with mine.
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