As many of you know, my wife, after 13 years of yearning and dreaming of carrying life in her womb, had a successful embryo implantation in November and is now entering into her 2nd trimester of pregnancy.
While we have enjoyed bringing along our friends, family and even church on this amazing voyage, it has meant that the process has been pretty transparent at every level. So, in order to keep one thing a surprise, we have chose to withhold "her" (yes we know it's a girl) name until we are blessed with her presence; when we hold her for the first time and stare lovingly into her beautiful eyes.
Needless to say, this is driving our boys, well, nuts. They desperately want to know her name. So, since we aren't telling, they've decided to call her "Cindy Vortex," hence the title of this post. I guess Cindy Vortex is a character on Jimmy Neutron.
I wrote the following poem for her and framed it and gave it to my wife for Christmas. I hope you enjoy it. It's called, "Baby Girl."
Baby girl, I saw you today for the first time, and what I beheld I can sum up in a word: Gorgeous. I don’t mean the color of your eyes or the long, flowing mane of your hair, as black and straight as a winter’s raven-colored sky. I’m not talking about the color of your auburn skin or the cute slope of your nose. You see, I saw beauty that was much more than skin deep. Beauty that is far greater than the sum of its parts. Today, I beheld a thing that, for the ancients, was impossible to imagine, let alone conceive. For today, I beheld you, baby girl, a candle pulsing in the darkness. Not flesh of my flesh nor bone of my bone. But heart of my heart and soul of my soul. And as I beheld you, your life flashed before my eyes. Today, I imagined first smiles and first steps. First words and first days of school. Today, I began rehearsing my speech for your suitors. That’s right, I said suitors, because not just anyone’s gonna date my baby girl. Today, I prayed for the heart and soul of the man who would commit his life to you – to honor, cherish, treasure, and adore you for the miracle of God you are. Today, I walked you down the aisle, struggling in vain to hold back tears that refused to be subdued, insisting that this moment be baptized in water and the Spirit. Today, I laughed with grandkids and great-grandkids who had your eyes and their Father’s heart. Children of the New Israel who will truly be the means by which all the nations of the earth shall finally receive their blessing. Today, I sang Hannah’s song to the tune of Mary’s Magnificat. Today, I laughed with the audacity of Sarah and reveled in Rachel’s redemption. Today I understood what is must have been like for Zechariah to have his words stolen from him until he could utter speech that birthed hope. Today, I hoped for a world in which a woman would no longer be judged by the flawless elasticity or color of her skin, but rather, as brother Martin said, “By the content of her character.” Today, I envisioned a world in which a woman would be president, where stereotypes and caricatures of feministic fault lines would shift on tectonic plates of truth, justice, and the way of the kingdom. Today, whew, today I beheld you as God beheld me.
And, for a moment, all was right with the world.