THE BIRTHING of DAYS

Over five years this time. It has been that long before. The first time was twenty three years. Nearly a quarter of a century before I touched the celebration with any depth from within my own life and love. Oh, I celebrated before but I usually tracked along with generic trappings standard in my culture, so I'm not sure I celebrated or just merged with other's ideas and called it happy.

It was a third year when it happened. My wife survived as He promised, and he was born. We gave him a name together, as best we could, only to find out later that much more than we imagined was involved in his naming. I told her family only when I knew she was OK. No one seemed to notice we'd been at the hospital over two days.

When we took him home, I could hold him in one hand. I did after he could balance his neck a little better. I'd hold his little rump in the palm of my hand, and he was about as tall as a football with appendages. We use to have a picture.

I was home and lucid for the moment he discovered his hand. It was nearly an accident, but I saw the moment. I thought of calling her, but I hesitated because I felt how delicate the moment was. When it continued, I called gently. She saw it too, I think. He looked at each finger, and focused upon one, drew it toward his mouth and touched his forehead instead. Drew his hand back, scrunched his face, drew his hand toward his mouth, MORE forehead..... a second or two and the moment ended. But not for me.

Years, decades have passed. Long he's been living his own life. This year we were able to intersect and celebrate together. We understand WHO brought us together and granted us love. We know WHO is celebrated. And we appreciate how much more precious it is when we can do so together.

Thank You, GOD, for our family.