It’s a cold, blustery morning and the sun is darkened by rainclouds. It usually would be streaming in by now on my early morning work place at the dining room table, forcing me to move to another location in the house because of the glare, but a steady November rain has changed all that. The struggling flowers in our garden are immensely pleased. We seem to never get enough water to them here in drought-happy southern California, even this time of year, when they shouldn’t require so much. The fact that I am still in my early-morning spot at this hour makes me feel like I have a reprieve from waking up so late — a response to working late last night. It feels like it’s at least two hours earlier than it is right now, like I’ve got extra time.
Thirty miles away from here, in a hospital maternity wing, however, time is running out on a tiny baby boy nestled in his mother’s womb. In minutes he will see the light of day. In minutes, the full weight of the outside world will come crashing in on him with all of its joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure, hope and despair. In one way, it’s harsh and almost cruel. There’s no measured transition. Suddenly — quite suddenly, in fact — that soft, warm, watery protection accompanied by Mom’s surround-sound heartbeat is ripped open and out gushes Jackson on a waterfall of blood and water soon to be in the waiting arms of his mother, where the dearest of all relationships will begin. Mother and son, bonded inside, now out, with the milk of human love and God’s promises.
It’s done. He’s out. Now it begins. The most amazing sequel of God’s creative Mastermind is each and every one of us, made in His image and capable of relating to Him and to others, and beyond that, of being one with Him and with all who are His. That makes relationships the most precious and divine of all our human possessions and experiences. We are the stuff into which angels long to look. That would make sense, especially since Jackson’s great-aunt saw his picture and somehow could tell he’d been listening to angels.