Sarah May made her debut into the world beyond the womb yesterday
after 24 weeks gestation and an emergency C-section.
She weighs just over 1lb.
She measures as long as my index finger.
She can fit into the hollow of my hand.
Precious is the gift of her being.
Fluttering like a bird, her heartbeat can be seen
through her translucent skin.
The world is changed, irrevocably altered with every breath she breathes.
She takes up space....infinitely larger than she.
She has invaded my heart.
I haven't even laid eyes on her yet.
She doesn't know me.
But she is a part of me.
Her mother, my friend, recovers in isolation.
No visitors aloud.
My heart expands...stretches...transcends distance....breaks and is stronger for the tearing.
She is a woman who lives to love....my neighbor...my friend
I've seen her living life.
I've held her.
We drink tea.
I make mint-chocolate cheesecake.
She sends over girlie bath stuff.
Sarah May's father received notice on the day of her birth:
his cancer related surgery date is set.
Not for the first time. Not his first surgery.
He goes under the knife a month after her birth.
Another tear, a rending ...my shattered heart pieces
are in need of the master's touch.
God ...is this what you meant by the fellowship of your suffering?
The pain of love.
I think today of sparrows and lilies.
Of delicate petals and feathered wings.
Of tiny things.
Sustained and clothed in beauty, by the purposeful designer.
I think on Love....
... of angels given charge.
...of sheltering wings.
Sleep well Princess...
You are held.