New Life Makes Me Smile

My last post was about death. We never know when that will come and when confronted with its possibility, we tend to focus more on living well. I've thought a lot about Amy Welborn the last few days (I even looked up a bit more about her and learned that she lived in DeKalb, Illinois at one time!). The transition she is facing. The life and testimony her husband had. The children he left behind.

The image I get in my head is of a mountain climber. Our lives tend to ebb and flow. Sometimes we are in the valleys. Sometimes we feel lost. Sometimes we are on the summit of the mountain top and lose our footing and plummet to a lower spot with bruises and pain. Unexpected loss probably feels a lot like that.

I remember talking with a good friend shortly before my first son was born. Her life was going very well and the enthusiasm in her voice was infectious. However, shortly after my son's birth, I received another call from her and she explained that she had to work up the energy to make the call and get through it. I think, perhaps, she was worried I might call her to share the joyous news of my son's birth, because new life makes people burst with the news. He was born the day before her 10 year old son, unexpectedly died of an undetected birth defect. It certainly seemed like she had plummeted from a high elevation.

She struggled for many years. Thankfully, I recently reconnected with her on Facebook and have learned that she is remarried and steadily climbing out of the valley. She still misses her son more than she can express, but the fall off that mountain isn't quite so fresh and life has brought her to a different stretch of land on her journey.

Tonight, I received an e-mail from my pen-pal, Katja. I found myself grinning from ear to ear as I read about her doctor visit and the health of the baby at this point. New life has a way of doing that to me. I'm so thrilled over the little life growing within her (partly because I know how much she has longed for this blessing). Life is, indeed, a journey, and the beginning is so sweet and tender.

I am praying that everything goes well with Katja's pregnancy. I am praying for a new life (in more ways than one) for Katja.

Today, I logged on to my niece Amelia's St. Baldrick's participation page and made a donation on her head (she is already half way to her goal, but every little dollar helps her get closer). Oftentimes, survivors have to deal with survivor's guilt (although probably Amelia's mother feels this more than Amelia does). That open question of why their child thrived while another child's life ended. Amelia is doing what she can to honor those who are still fighting cancer, to aid those whose fight has yet begun and in memory of those whose journey is over.

Amy Welborn's husband wrote a post on his blog in January (definitely worth a look), reflecting on the new year. He wrote:

"So at the top of my list of goals for this New Year is the resolution to surrender everything to Christ, to be a steward of what God has given me (my life) and continues to give to me (my children). I also want to commit others to Christ through my prayer—to lift them up in prayer, so that they too will accept the gifts that God gives to them." He went on to say, "This is a special time of the year to recall the gift of life—our own (and hence the need to once again eat well and exercise) and all of God’s creation—from the moment of conception to natural death. Do we want a holy, peaceful, and sinless day? Then we must commit ourselves entirely to Christ our God."

I want to give my best to my own life's journey. I want to climb well and really enjoy the view during the moments God gives for resting on the journey. I want to make each day count, because life is such a blessing, no matter how long it is lived. And new life, well that really makes me smile.