God knits babies together in the secret dark. Small wonder that to get a glimpse into their world we need to go into darkened rooms lit only by a flickering screen to read what we can of who they are becoming.

But He already knows. He already delights. He has already been singing over them in the dark secret hours of spinning life out of strands of DNA; an artist at work, creating and shaping another Adam-child in His image. And the sonogram is desperate to catch up. And the black and white shifting dimensions on the screen only hint at His handiwork. At the brilliance and the raw beauty beating with all four chambers of its heart there on the dim screen.

It is the shape the Father sculpted in the Beginning and the shape the Christ-son took. It is the ancient familiar form that is still somehow new every time we see it fitted over a new soul.

“Since our Beloved became a man, how should Reason in any world take on another form? Do you not understand? That is all over. Among times there is a time that turns a corner and everything this side of it is new. Times do not go backward.” C.S. Lewis, Perelandra, p.232.

Upward and forward and deeper into the God heart with each new life He entrusts us with. Parts of us crack wide open and we are vulnerable to a vast army of fears – to parent is to ache over the unknown. And this third time I feel the ache like a low register in the small of my back. In the last five years I have known friends who lost their children in ways the brain can barely process. Children crushed under pickup trucks, children lost in the womb, children who couldn’t live outside the shelter of their mother’s bodies.

I have watched them try to jig saw puzzle their lives back together. I no longer take anything for granted. All is grace. All is undeserved gift. I see the miracle now with both eyes wide, wide open.

And today her name was “daughter.”

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