Zechariah, Elizabeth, and Trust
She went off by herself for five months, relishing her pregnancy.
Luke 1:25
Of course he's the one who gets to lose his voice. So now I'm left to do it all: talk to the elders, the merchants, the neighbors, the doctor, our friends--
Forget it. When the baby beats all the odds and lives, I'll shout my praise, but until then, I'll go off by myself, sit still, be silent.
I'll wait to come home until Mary arrives; she can care for me in those final months. I will attend to her with silent presence, deep attention. In time, she'll match my silence, and we'll sit together, just being in our bodies, exploring our limits.
We'll learn we have no limits.
The womb expands to 500 times its size. The baby squeezes through a hole no wider than a thumbnail.
That's the thing with angel visits, silent husbands, pregnancy and birth: it's only later, when we look back, that they seem extraordinary.
Most women are too busy to notice their own stories unless they have learned to take time away to look back. Weep. Gasp.
So, Mary and I will sit in silence. The silence feeds us, and is our food, and is the outcome of our eating.
I trust in the careful practice of presence, of saying no by saying yes.
Luke 1:25
Of course he's the one who gets to lose his voice. So now I'm left to do it all: talk to the elders, the merchants, the neighbors, the doctor, our friends--
Forget it. When the baby beats all the odds and lives, I'll shout my praise, but until then, I'll go off by myself, sit still, be silent.
I'll wait to come home until Mary arrives; she can care for me in those final months. I will attend to her with silent presence, deep attention. In time, she'll match my silence, and we'll sit together, just being in our bodies, exploring our limits.
We'll learn we have no limits.
The womb expands to 500 times its size. The baby squeezes through a hole no wider than a thumbnail.
That's the thing with angel visits, silent husbands, pregnancy and birth: it's only later, when we look back, that they seem extraordinary.
Most women are too busy to notice their own stories unless they have learned to take time away to look back. Weep. Gasp.
So, Mary and I will sit in silence. The silence feeds us, and is our food, and is the outcome of our eating.
I trust in the careful practice of presence, of saying no by saying yes.
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