(go ahead: duh-duh duh-duh duh-duh aye-aye-aye)
i’m trying to understand what the faint baby throw up smell on my hand could be. the smell of nourishment and basic needs being met. it’s faint and delicate. i’ve not held a baby today. i’ve washed my hands within the last hour. and instead of simply washing them again or figuring it out, i pull my hand to my nose breathe in a little deeper.
this moment was meant to be.
each moment is. each moment is known. each moment is an opportunity. each soul settling moment. each heart wrenching moment. each moment that sends one to imagine evil among us. each moment that leaves us numb. each moment that offers the surges of energy that can only be spirit.
each moment is meant to be.
bear with me, real life friends, who will smile and shake their heads at my grappling. they’ve heard me many times wonder and muse over the possibilities that we might be pawns, beautiful pawns, in this game of life. is it possible that our maker knows and watches and offers us clarity and hope? is it possible that that is enough? together we’ve claimed climbing aboard the crazy train to cling to what we need to.
horrendous things happen to the least of us and the greatest of us. might god stand by and watch, knowingly surround us. knowingly feel the pain even more because there was knowledge of what was coming?
i know there will be pain in my children’s lives. i’m so grateful not to know yet what it is. i don’t think i can stop it, i don’t want to pretend that i can, i don’t want to deny it. i want to stand by. i want to collapse on the wood floor of our dining room with them or meet them at the back door, opening the broken latch before they even reach the handle. i want to remind them of their centers, their true selves. i want to cry out at the injustice. my stomach will lurch at the pain. when the horrors of this mortal life come, i like an image of god pained and weary and strong enough to embrace the mystery.
i remember years ago trying to explain to an older friend that i get an image quite often: i am one woman in this world, infinitely small and encompassing the earth all at the same time…i can see her as both things at once…with his wise and logical mind engaged, his furrowed brow said, i don’t get that.
so this baby smell on my hand can’t actually be baby smell, but it can be everything about it. it can be reminders and possibilities. it can be a gift with or without logical roots. a moment meant.
and now, now i will park this crazy train for night.
thank god for the potential. for knowing all. that it is well.
. . . .
after writing here for these last minutes, i remember that i have new lotion.
with rice milk in it.
i wore it today.
so now i’m thinking of my babies eating their first bites of rice cereal…
organic flakes mixed with breast milk, the spoon with a plastic tip…
my heart sings with gratitude.
this moment is meant as well.