itsawonderfilledlife

Happy birthday to my first born!

It’s been another year of what we take most for granted … life and breath.

Life and breath. They go together, they need each other, yet, we easily forget the blessing that they are, until we risk losing them.

I remember well your first breath, and the cries that followed. They were the best sounds I had ever heard. They proceeded tears and smiles and laughter from your dad and I.

I had waited and worked hard for that moment, and not just in pushing you out and into this world. From your conception, there was the threat of loss (as had happened before you) that I was determined would not occur.

As if we are able to will our days, our breath, let alone will it for another.

“For the Spirit of God has made me,
and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.”
Job 33:4

And here you are, all these years later.

You have an education, and you are ready to break out onto your own … if only the one right job would come along (as opposed to the three that are paying the bills).

It is hard to be in a place of waiting, especially when you have been waiting all throughout your years of study. You are ready to go, to do, to really, finally live the life.

Even in this valley, that seems so shadowed, there is life and breath:

God, my shepherd!
I don’t need a thing.
You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
you find me quiet pools to drink from.
True to your word,
you let me catch my breath
and send me in the right direction.
Even when the way goes through
Death Valley,
I’m not afraid
when you walk at my side.
Your trusty shepherd’s crook
makes me feel secure.
You serve me a six-course dinner
right in front of my enemies.
You revive my drooping head;
my cup brims with blessing.
Your beauty and love chase after me
every day of my life.
I’m back home in the house of God
for the rest of my life.

You have worked hard, and you are waiting. But, you are being nourished and cared for even in the waiting.

As I waited for you, I also waited in the valley. It was not where I wanted to be, yet it was where I needed to be, to repair and prepare. To breath, to re-learn how to live again.

You were so worth waiting for, and your breath took mine away.