Thoughts on Life

Well, I rarely write anything on this blog, it's mostly just about the photos for me. However, I have some thoughts on life that I'd like to share. As I sit here my perfect baby boy is wiggling his little pink toes and endearingly nursing his pacifier. I'm trying to let him "self soothe" like the pediatrician recommended, but it's tempting to scoop him up and cuddle him to sleep.

Becoming a mother has taught me some unexpected lessons about life. The physical process of carrying and growing a baby, laboring and delivering is fascinating. But the experience gave me a strong conviction that growing a baby does not give an individual life.

I've heard it said that birth and death are closely related. For me, that statement resonated in the delivery room. The painful process of birth throws into sharp relief the inevitable nature of mortality. Pain brings with it the humbling conviction that we are not in control of our lives to the degree that we sometimes feel. Experiencing great pain reminds us that our bodies will not last forever, nor do we get to choose how and when our bodies will grow, develop and eventually, die.

In that moment, it's difficult not to feel a shock at ones lack of control. Like the bible explains, "Neither shalt thou swear by thy head, because thou canst not make one hair white or black". Though we often say, "it's my life" or "it's my body" to assert our ownership, we in fact own very little of ourselves. Some things we choose, but others are---without a doubt---in God's hands alone.

So in the delivery room when it came down to it, I acknowledged my choice to be a mother, physically creating this little body. However, merely putting the cells together, nourishing and birthing Luke did not endow him with the "breath of life" to become a living soul. In that moment more than any other, it was clear to me that while I had chosen to create a child, it was God who chose to give my child life. No way was that perfect little person simply the product of a biological process. Life is so fragile. Our mortality is so real and far beyond our control. God holds these vulnerable threads together. Each breath we take is given to us by Him.


In the moment that I brought Luke into the world, I thought, "that's all?". "You just get pregnant, take your vitamins, wait nine months and magically out pops this amazingly complex person with his own thoughts, feelings and potential?" No, the thought makes reason stare. It's too incredible to attribute life to a mere biological result. Too many things went right that could have gone wrong. There are too many unfathomable mysteries about the functioning of the body, mind and spirit. It is impossible for me to believe that life is spontaneous. I've heard women say so before, and now I'm grateful to join to chorus of mothers throughout history who affirm that birth is a miracle, not just a process.


Now that Luke is here, I can't help marveling at his perfect little frame. Tiny feet, tiny hands. A mere fraction of what he will grow to be, but perfect for the present. I think of the intricacies of his body. The life-sustaining systems in delicate balance. Everything about him seems to say, "we are not our own". God designed this perfect, beautiful body. It is a masterpiece. And Luke, like all of us, is living on borrowed time.

I am reminded of the words of the song:

My life is a gift.
My life has a plan.
My life has a purpose,
In heaven it began.

My choice was to come
to this lovely home on earth
and seek for God's light
to direct me from birth.

So, on the days when I haven't slept, or showered, or stirred out of doors, it's empowering to cherish my beautiful son and reflect on the miraculous events that brought him here. Knowing that life is a gift also brings with it the conviction that life has a purpose, a meaning and a plan. That puts things into perspective again, gives me excitement for the future and faith in Christ to light the way.