Love What Matters


By Jane Thompson Koble, May 28 at 12:30pm –

“You know what’s weird?? And sad?? It’s 12:30 AM and I’m holding the most beautiful five week old infant in my arms. The whole house is quiet and dark. I’m just listening to him breathe i’m soaking in the warmth of this baby sleeping peacefully on my chest. And I can’t move. Can’t go to bed. And it’s not my baby. It’s not my grandbaby. Somewhere close by there is a woman who lives with the hell of addiction. Of hopelessness. I just imagine that she feels lost, alone. Ashamed. Ugly. Hurt. Undeserving. I don’t know if this is true-but I imagine that her arms are empty and longing to be sitting where I’m sitting , where it’s quiet and safe and clean and free from strangers, noise, abuse and danger and there is peace and love. Rest. Redemption.

I’m listening to him breathe. Watching his chest rise and fall. Listening to his perfect squeaks and sneezes. But he was taken away from her. Just hours after his birth. And it’s not the first time this has happened. And, truth be told, it probably won’t be the last. Can you imagine… You give birth in a hospital… Alone. No family. No celebration, no pictures. You leave… Your baby goes home with someone else… And you don’t even know who… Your body takes days and weeks and months to heal and and serves as a constant reminder of this void… It’s unfathomable right? So easy for us (all of us) to sit in judgement of her because we can’t imagine it. (That’s just real. It’s not pleasant or right, but it’s real).

For today, I am his mama. For today, Chuck is his daddy. We love him. We protect him. We pray for him. We make sure that his basic needs are being met. And our friends hold him and pray for him also. Most of all we hold him. And listen to his soft, squeaky noises. We realize that, but for the grace of God, his mom’s story could be our story. I want so much for her to get it together! To use resources that are available to her to turn her life around. To be able to hold this baby. (I keep thinking that, if she could just hold him for a few hours it would be enough to propel her into a different life. A life different than the hard, abusive, uncaring, violent, numb place that she grew up in, and remains.) To be able to raise this baby.

It’s hard to know how to pray for the situation. For these babies. For these mamas. I’m so grateful that the Holy Spirit is here to speak for me. In the way that I am inadequate to pray. I’m Grateful that, for now, my job is just to hold him. Because that’s easy. And you would do the same. But I’m baffled. And Speechless. And overwhelmed. Humbled. Honored. Grateful and Sad.”


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