The painting is finished and framed and hung. The dishes are done. The cushions on the couch are straightened. Lorraine has had her breakfast. This should mean that I am in the hospital and that babygirl is soon to arrive, but would you go figure?, we have been postponed! There was no room in the inn. So this gives me a moment instead to whisper something, something I wasn't going to tell.
When Lucas was born, or rather, in the hours before he was born, I was not doing well at all. I was just laying there limp and shaking, sometimes not sure where I was. And then the most marvelous thing happened. I heard whispers, so many whispers, all around me. Rustling sounds too. I felt this enormous sense of calm and peace and relief from pain, and I opened up my teary eyes and there was only Matt, sitting by my side. And I knew the room had been filled with angels, or still was, and that God in his mercy had let me know it. I knew He was taking care of me and my son, and that we would be okay.
The other day I got so afraid, and Lucas looked at me and said "Angeles, cuentame." (Angels, tell me.) I told him the story of the day he was born (which I'd never done before) and when I finished, he said "Otra vez" (again.) So I did. I told it to him again and again until I finally started paying attention to what I was saying. And I was overwhelmed by His grace again. You would think this would be enough, but then again last night I got afraid, and Lucas from his little highchair said "Mamita, angeles." I said, "Okay, I'll tell you the story." So I did. And I finished and he looked at me and he simply said "Que bello."
3 weeks ago