A Jon Post
Beloved
Don’t tarry my daughter, don’t tarry.
You are the one we’ve wanted! You are the one we’ve waited for! You are our family’s completion and the reflection of the grace of God!
I’ve waited in this room before. I’ve held her sweating hand, eel-writhing in pain, before. I’ve wondered at the sin-curse, the soul-creation, the bloodwaterfire, lifegift of this miracle.
I’ve seen her closed eyes, her whispered prayers, her steelrope tight muscles.
Don’t tarry my daughter, don’t tarry.
Bursting forth like drum beats in the mountains
Called to the now in thunderous echoes of pain and passion
Waterfalls of agony and wonder, chaotic emotions like spider webs, silken, gorgeous and terrifying.
Don’t tarry my daughter, don’t tarry!
Yelling out her solo hymn of laborpain, my beloved heaves the weight and the urge to stop back at the liar who tells her she hasn’t the strength.
Aweful, awesome, my eyes deadlocked on the miracle of selfgiving displayed in blood and trust before me in a hospital labor and delivery room.
Given
Now, screaming down this mountain with no brakes, ripping through the waves of anguish, my beloved holds her head high and gives her body to her daughter.
IT IS ENOUGH.
IT IS ENOUGH.
Selah.
Stop… stop… reflect on this.
Janelle.
God, has been gracious.
March 27, 2015
Family