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Sunday, May 1, 2016
Floating Through the DoorPosted Saturday, September 29, 2012, at 5:30 PM
He floated through the door. There is no other word to describe it. His feet simply never touched the ground. In his arms he held the most precious gift in the world--his child.
Long before they had ever married he had told her of all his hopes and dreams for children. He loved kids--they made him giddy, silly, weepy . . . all gooey inside. He wanted at least two--preferably a boy and girl, but any child would do. He wanted to teach them to raise and ride horses; to work cattle; to take long trail rides; to bond with magnanimous creatures; to enjoy the outdoors; to camp; to canoe and enjoy slipping by silently as the river or stream wound its way through God's creation.
He wanted to share so much with a child--to experience the things he had missed as well as what he had done growing up. There was so much life and joy and love to pass on to the next generation. He wanted it all for his future children for his dreams to become reality.
They had tried for so long to have children. They had taken all the treatments. He had watched his wife suffer with the simply reality that she was barren. Eventually, over the years--fourteen long years--he had accepted that his hopes and dreams for fatherhood were not to be. He found peace in sharing his joy with the children of others.
Then God enabled them . . . and after months of preparation, joys, and tears, "HE" arrived. The birth was not easy. When it became clear he was not going to come traditionally they rushed to the operating room. He stood with the surgeon as the child was cut from her womb; watched as the umbilical cord "noose" that was wound about his tiny throat was removed. Then reaching out, he took his son into his arms.
RAPTURE . . . ECSTASY . . . UNSPEAKABLE JOY . . . a SON WAS BORN! Had he been able he would have filled the sky with angels singing of his son's birth. No wonder his feet never touched the floor! A dream he had thought was gone forever lived, breathed, and was held in his arms.
Years later, this miracle child . . . this embodiment of his hopes and dreams and love stood beside him. He looked up at his tall, strong son. They were heading off for the weekend to share their love of the outdoors, camping life. They had felled the trees, skinned them for the tipi they were raising. They pulled the canvas around the poles to create their shelter for the following days.
Setting up their camp, they talked--swapped stories and memories as they prepared to share their love for the Old West, life among the native nations living in America when their ancestors had come to this land to live among them. Camp chores were quickly completed with a pot of stew simmering over the cook fire dug into the earth.
Though his son was no longer the child he carried in his arms as he floated through the door, the satisfaction and joy was the same. The boy--man--was all he had hoped and dreamed for so many years before.
God dreams of children. For each child, God has dreams and hopes and delights in watching the child grow. Even when we wonder . . . "why me, God?" the answer is clear. God delights in each of us because we are God's own.
In the world in which we live there is love. However we more often seem to be filled with turmoil, hatred, wars, genocide for the sake of control--of power. God open our eyes to love. Help us to see one another through your eyes--the eyes of our creator . . . the eyes of hope . . . of love . . . of joy. Open our hearts, minds, and actions to those of a loving parent. Forgive us when we fail. Teach us to treasure each life so much that our feet never touch the ground. So be it. Amen.
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Rayla Stewart Hogue is a native of Dexter. She is a wife, mother, and minister of the UCC (United Church of Christ). She seeks to recognize and embrace the unending hues of God's ethne and religion, and commits herself to living and expressing this inclusive diversity through Sacrament and the spoken, written, and sung Word of God.