Love is Born Again

The red, green, and white holiday stocking hanging by the Christmas tree has two more days left: the twenty-third and the twenty-fourth. Each morning (when I remember) I place a star in a little pocket behind each number, starting at one and going all the way to twenty-four. Today is day twenty-two.

This simple ritual of counting the days to Christmas this year has felt different than in the past. Each new day feels more like a lovely gift to unwrap. Not all of these past twenty-two days have been good days, but good enough to say to God, “thank you.”

One day I wanted to, as the Bible says, “curse God and die.” At my lowest moment, my sorrow overwhelmed my ability to desire anything anymore. I am not what anyone would call “a crier.” I’m defiantly not a “cry baby,” (a sensitive topic for those of us who are, in fact, the baby of the family). I don’t remember the last time I had a “good cry.” Until now.

A sob erupted from deep within my body and something broke through. As I sobbed, healing came like a physical current of energy in my body, similar to the feeling I had of labor pains in childbirth.

I rode the current of sorrow and it was good. I trusted my body’s need to deeply feel the anguish of what it means to be part of a world in need of saving. Tears exhausted me. Did you know that crying is a form of exercise? It was a very good cry.

When my tears dried up, I decided to cheer myself up from too much sadness. From my cocoon of sadness, I sent a text to my son, “do you want to watch a Christmas movie with me?”

He texted back, “I would love to watch one with you.”

We labor for new life. What we also labor for is our own lives, every day. The thing is, most days we are too busy working and distracted to notice. Until one day when the labor to stay alive is extra hard. Hard enough to get our attention.

Together on the sixteenth day we watched a Christmas movie. By the end of the movie, I noticed it was easier for me to breathe. The tears dried on my face, but the spiritual stretch marks are still there on my soul.

There are spaces in my soul where I had to push hard to birth new life. I can feel the new edges created by the currents in my spiritbody. The shape of my soul has changed, expanded.

There are stretch marks on my soul that only God and I can see. I don’t want to forget their birth story. Nor do I want to forget the solace of human love.

My soul magnifies Divine love pushing through us like labor pains and insists on not giving up hope.

Our labor is not in vain. Love comes. Love is born again. Love is here to stay.