Blessings

Happy Friday! Bea is now 24 weeks. At the doctor's office on Tuesday we were reading a page on the NICU calendar about a girl named Samantha who was born at 24 weeks. She only weighed one pound when she was born and had a rough first few years, but now she is a relatively normal kindergartener. Obviously, we want Bea to stay cookin' for a good 10 more weeks, but it's nice to know that every day is progress. (32 weeks is when the NICU can reliably help babies survive and live normal lives; normal babies are born at 39/40 weeks.)

As we've said, before the surgery a few weeks ago, we had a blessing ceremony for the girls. The hospital chaplin brought us two passages and I thought you might enjoy reading them.

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The first passage is very dear to me. When the Chaplin asked me if I would like anything special to be said, I asked her if she had anything by Michael Leunig. Although my beliefs don't seem to align with any specific religion, when we received a book of Leunig's as a wedding present, I immediately identified with his simple prayers. When the Chaplin came back, she said she was sorry but she could only find one of Luenig's prayers on an old photocopy. It happened to be the very prayer I had in mind. Here it is:

Dear God,
We struggle, we grow weary, we grow tired. We are exhausted, we are distressed, we despair. We give up, we fall down, we let go. We cry. We are empty, we grow calm, we are ready, We wait quietly.

A small, shy truth arrives. Arrives from without and within. Arrives and is born. Simple, steady, clear. Like a mirror, like a bell, like a flame. Like rain in summer. A precious truth arrives and is born within us. Within our emptiness.

We accept it, we observe it, we absorb it. We surrender to our bare truth. We are nourished, we are changed. We are blessed. We rise up. For this we give thanks.
Amen.

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The other passage was from Kahil Gibran's "The Prophet." I know it is a fairly famous book and many of you have probably read this passage before, but I think it is really insightful in the context of our situation:

Then a woman said, "Speak to us of Joy and Sorrow."
And he answered:
Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.

And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that hold your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow," and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

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Have a nice weekend!
Love, Melissa & Bea (& Matt, too)