Tuesday, May 24, 2011

I feel sorry for Jesus

Last night I lay awake in bed, feeling Clementine do aerobics in my womb. She was stretching and poking and running in place, pushing out and drawing back, a little whirling dervish. And I felt sorry for Jesus. Because Jesus never got to experience a baby in His belly. He never knew the wonder and awe of having life, pure unique life, inside His own body.
Taking a bigger view, I'm not saying that God doesn't know what pregnancy is like. If anything, pregnancy is a great argument for God's femininity. The Creator God surely understands intimately what it is like to carry life. How could She be omniscient if that weren't true? Yet, as far as we know, She has never experienced this corporeally. Because the only time God has put skin and flesh on is in Jesus, and Jesus was a man. And so I return to my original thought - I feel sorry for Jesus. Because this is truly an experience worth having.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011


I was enjoying the hammock on our screened in porch this morning and watching our cat, Duchess, run around. She loves the porch. She jumps up onto the studs and climbs the screens, getting as high as she can to watch the squirrels and birds. She dashes from one corner to the other, intent on her prey. At one point, after dashing to the door to chase a bird on the other side, she stopped and licked her back paw. The intensity with which she licked that paw really struck me. Everything she does is intense.
Watching her reminded me of how kids and babies sleep: with intensity. You know what I'm talking about. The photo of the child who didn't quite make it to bed, one leg dangling above the floor, the upper body collapsed in slumber. The baby who settles into sleep and stillness so intense that you wonder if she is still even breathing. Or the baby whose breathing is so quick and intense that you can practically feel the focus he has on sleeping. It almost seems wrong to call this type of sleep relaxation.
I have been experiencing a different kind of intensity. My intensity is inwardly directed - a full focus on my womb and what is happening there. My body, soul, and mind have let go of any outward intensity in order to create the life within. Writing is no longer a priority for me; work is enjoyable but not urgent; cooking and housekeeping have completely fallen off the radar. All that matters is the life I nurture. I know this is temporary. It is a truly odd state, one that I back away from and observe with dispassionate curiosity. I know that my priorities will continue to shift; that my passion for writing will return. Until then, I focus on her.

Tuesday, May 10, 2011


There is no update. However, I don't want to leave my blog neglected for too long. Suffice to say my personal life has gotten very full, and so this blog has taken a back seat for a time.