Today my youngest son turns eight. At this time eight years ago I was working hard to bring him into the world. A sleepless night, a lot of walking, a midwife pouring warm water over my tired, hardworking pregnant belly . . .
sidenote: only my oldest was born in typical american hospital style. i was blessed/spoiled/stubborn enough to have my other four babies at home with a nurse midwife in attendance. talk about empowerment. talk about quality care. why have i been so blessed?
Remembering birth days is remembering a blurry string of emotions. Excitement, impatience, fear, frustration, determination, exhaustion, TRIUMPH! How does this happen? How does this little person come from me? How does such overwhelming toil and concern turn so quickly to overflowing joy?
In the blink of an eye . . .
Does God experience this when someone experiences spiritual birth? Does he recall all the effort it took to bring them to this place? Does he go through those same stages of excitement, impatience, frustration, and finally — TRIUMPH! And the overwhelming joy and love . . . we know he feels that. We know he IS that.
The old testament drips with God’s motherlike love for us. He speaks to Israel as if she were his child/bride/lover/wife all rolled into one. The all-consuming nature of God’s relationship with us can be frightening at times; there isn’t a human relationship that comes close to the intensity and intimacy he desires.
Birth and rebirth. Pain and joy.
God is indeed very, very good.