(Here’s a bit from Eugene Peterson…images of what brings new life. This is beautiful. I don’t now how he does it, but he most certainly does. And he does it well.)
The bawling of babies, always in a way
Inappropriate — why should the loved and innocent
Greet existence with wails? – proof that not all
Is well. Dreams and deliveries never quite mesh.
Deep hungers go unsatisfied, deep hurts
Unhealed. The natural and gay are torn
By ugly grimace and curse. A wound appears
In the place of ecstasy. Birth is bloody.
All pain’s a prelude: to symphony, to sweetness.
“The pearl began as a pain in the oyster’s stomach.”
Dogwood, recycled from cradle to cross, enters
The market again as a yoke for easing burdens>
Each sword-opened side is the matrix for God
To come to me again through travail for joy.
“This child marks both the failure and the recovery of many in Israel,
A figure misunderstood and contradicted — the pain of a sword thrust through you–
But the rejection will force honesty, as God reveals who they really are.” (Luke 2:34-35)
