Forming and finding within the telling

This evening, I find myself reflecting on something unique within women; particularly those who have borne children. I’m thinking about t the pressing, necessary, unquenchable desire to share the story.

Childbirth is, in many ways, indescribable. It is a terrible and amazing mystery; an initiation; a transformation. And in the end, after the gush and rush and wail, it must be exclaimed. For through birth, we are transformed. We have taken part in the act of creation, we have given our lives over to a desperation within, and we have been broken open to spill redemption in the hope of another.

And so we must share it.

This afternoon, as I listened to her share the story of the birth, I noticed how her eyes were focused elsewhere, farther, remembering. She was present with us in the telling, but present in the memory of that moment as well. As she shared of that contraction, that transition, that questioning moment, that point of fear, her mind heard her words and retold her heart and declared her a champion.

At one point, she laughed it off, “Thank you for listening to this rambling story with all those crazy details and…”. We laughed with our mouths but shook our heads and denied acceptance of the apology. Because we needed to hear more, we desired to lift her up on our shoulders and say, “YES! WOMAN! YES! You did it! You toiled and wept and bled and bore, and you tore yourself open to LIFE! YES!”

Life had been sown within and a harvest had been realized!
Fear and pain the awful awful realization of utter and desperate weakness had swirled and clutched!
Body had caved and that bellowing, knowing, low-toned call had come forth, begging God and man and Mystery…and she was delivered!
And she also, was delivered!

And so she shares the story and we love it and we cling to it and we say yes and amen because we are her! Even without a babe splitting the seam! Even without a man involved in a promise! We are her! We toil and we scream and we fear, oh how we fear. And we wonder, “How long? How long, Lord?” And we may choose to numb it, but we are women and we are called to transform so that we too may be transformed.

In our stories, we find ourselves.
In the forming, we are formed. 

4 Responses to “Forming and finding within the telling”
  1. beth says:

    I LOVE this, Dea. It is beautiful and powerful, and it resonates. Thank-you for writing this.

  2. Kmarie says:

    Love the stories. Love the beauty in the raw. Thanks for sharing.

  3. kit gonzales says:

    I love this. You are so talented 🙂

  4. Melanie B says:

    oh, this is breathtaking, friend!

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