All That Glitters Is Gold

Bear with me here, because the rants I am about to share are clearly those of a distracted, anxious, confused, joyful, fearful, newly pregnant woman. You've been warned.

Walking to work this week, half of my days straight to the lab for blood draws, and the other days taking the long path directly to my office, I have noticed something strange. Maybe it’s the warmer weather, maybe it is my new-and-highly acute moods, but either way, it is something I have never noticed before. In the morning hours, when the sun is still rising, the sidewalks of Chicago sparkle. Really sparkle, like they’re filled with glitter. But, upon closer examination, it’s not glitter at all—it’s spit.

I apologize to those whose stomachs have just turned over. But, despite how it sounds, from a distance, it is strangely beautiful. The street sort of shimmers, little pools of light reflecting rays of sunshine every which way—it’s a kinda mesmerizing. Until you happen to come upon one of those little pools of light, and realize that it’s nothing more than…someone else’s disregard for manners.

But, as I was walking along this morning, on my way to (hopefully) my last beta draw for awhile, I wasn’t repulsed by this as I usually am. Instead, I was filled with—hope. This sounds so silly, even as I'm typing it, but again, bear with me. This is really how I felt! Because what is ‘spit’? Fluid, liquid, water. A sign of life among us. The city I live in is alive, and more than just alive, proud to be so! Alive, vibrant, brave. The streets I walk are literally teeming with life, sparkling in that lovely morning sunshine I have come to appreciate so much. Especially now.

What reason do I have to believe, right now, today, in this very moment, that my little child is not thriving and alive in my womb? What real reason do I have to doubt that my God has placed this life in my care for a reason? Why should I fear, really, when life is so clearly in abundance all around me?

And all because of spit...I know, I know!

Death is a reality, to be sure. But this morning, I only recognized life. Life in my streets, life in my city, life inside of me. And so, today, I rejoice. Every day that I carry this precious life, I will rejoice. Death has robbed me of too much joy—no more. Right now, today, in this very moment, my child exists with me here on earth. And I love her. Oh how I love her, so very much, more than I ever thought I could love.

Thank you Lord, for this gift. T and I are so thankful, and humbled, and in awe of Your goodness. But Lord, so many others still wait. In my own way, I still wait as well, and I surely understand. Show us Your Mercy and Compassion during this season of waiting. Comfort us during our darkest days, and reveal to us the pure joy that comes from consecrating ourselves to You. Bind up our wounds as only You can. Fill our hearts with love, so that we may share this love with others.

Happy Friday. Today I wait, patiently, but joyfully as well.

P.S. In case you were wondering, I have not taken up spitting on the sidewalk, nor do I necessarily condone it. I also take great care not to step in it, because, well, gross. ;)