All day long I listen to pain and hardship...girls barely fourteen-years-old try to hide wombs ripe with fresh life, young mothers worn down from trips back and forth to the NICU to visit their babes born too soon, homeless families working to put the pieces back together-trying to re-establish roots, and mentally ill women bearing the torment of depression, anxiety and schizophrenia trying to comfort crying, frantic toddlers who would push the limits of patience in the most sane of mothers. They share their stories-sometimes timidly and discreetly, other times with a loud brashness that makes me back away and tremble to be near them. And it doesn't matter how many times I've heard these types of stories before, it still feels raw and fresh and painful every single time the suffering breaks open in my presence.
And then the chimes ring...the chimes that signify a new life born in the hospital. Another baby is brought into the world, gulping the oxygen of life, crying from the pain of breaking through the waters of the womb into a life that holds no promises of wealth or success or happiness. But still, those chimes, they stop me in my tracks and fill me with hope and joy. Because I know. I know that each life born into this world is a gift, a miracle of cells multiplying and increasing to hold the presence of God and carry Him forth into the future. And it won't be long before that new life is gently carried into my office by a mother filled with awe over the responsibility that has been placed into her unworthy hands. And that new life will smile and gurgle and then peacefully fall into slumber, and that's all it takes to change my perspective from sorrow and frustration to elation over the goodness of God and the great gift of new life.
Every baby born is hope for the world.
Every baby born is a needed gift.
And I thank the Lord for every baby born.
Let the chimes ring out! Alleluia!