The Risk of Gentleness
March 16, 2021
A limb skimmed the inside of my belly, the slick slide of it like a marble rolling underneath my skin. A tiny baby boy jostled my insides, engaging in his regular evening ritual of chaotic movement. I sat feeling his unknown shape bump up against my own, considering all this child’s unknowns: the thickness of his hair, the hue of his eyes, the shape of his nose. Closer than a brother, yet more mysterious than a stranger.
This is the child I did not expect. He is the child I would have told you, a year ago, I did not want. But his story, like so many, is bound up in the mysterious timeliness of a God who seems to enjoy astonishing us. As I sat – nine months pregnant – during Advent, surrounded by reminders of Jesus’ imminent birth, I found myself dwelling often on the sacred surprises we neither expect nor fully deserve. In 2020, like many others, I realized how often love calls us to take frightful, beautiful risks.
