Being a midwife brings joy and sorrow, some days in equal measure.
My son said my face looked severe while I was driving home today. I was feeling grief for someone. Faces radiating joy and and others etched with sorrow; held gently in my heart. I told him it is because I get to live life full on as a midwife with the women I walk with…
This is Advent.
The “yes” that resonates through the ages, and the long wait of longings that ache to be fulfilled.
Three Hanukkah candles burned tonight alongside two advent lights, for hope and peace. Rich symbols, handed down through the centuries; but new to my table. I need the symbols this year.
I burn the candles for mamas who ache to hold their babies. Candles for babies who grow in homes where violence is an everyday reality. For sisters who find the color of their skin or style of clothing slams doors shut, or worse, before they can open even a crack. Candles for churches that should be safe spaces, where abuse happens. Candles for the ancient cry of a people afraid to name their heritage lest they be annihilated. Candles for peace, where there is no peace. Candles for hope when the very word echoes as a bold cry against evil. Candles for those who dare to speak when everything screams to silence their voice.
As we lit the candle of peace the children talked about a bumper sticker they saw today: “when the power of love is stronger than the love of power there will be peace on earth.”
May there be peace. And let it begin with me.