When Life Intersects Eternity

I put away leftovers from dinner while my husband loads the dishwasher. We’re talking about the art we’ll hang in the office — we’re determined to unpack all of our boxes before our kids’ visit. 

I keep thinking about my son. His wife is scheduled for an induction in 3 days. After nearly 9 months, Baby Boy’s arrival is so close. How does my son feel right now? I text him. 

It’s the night before my mom’s birthday. My son, his wife and baby and my mom (who passed away 14 years ago) are all in my thoughts as I get ready for bed. 

I turn the sound on my phone and check it throughout the night. 

My sleep is interrupted by the phone alarm. I reach over and check for messages. Nothing. My husband and I get out of bed and dress for our morning walk. We’re both thinking of our son and his wife as we walk out the front door before the sun is up.  

My husband says, “Here’s what’s going on. Your mom is with Baby Boy. She told him: if you wait, we can share a birthday. He agreed. At midnight, he was ready to go, but she kept him with another family story. Then  she introduced him to another relative. Finally Baby Boy will give her a hug and say: Grandma, I have to go!”

I laugh because of course my mom is with Baby Boy. Why wouldn’t she be? My mom and dad and their parents, generations of people on both sides who love him. I imagine his people all around him. 

There are so many people; I can’t see all of their faces. But I feel the love and the anticipation. They’ve all been there, on earth that is. They know the joys. They know the risks. And they know the big picture. 

My mom’s face comes into focus. It’s been 14 years since she crossed over. It feels so long. I’m beginning to forget the sound of her voice, but I don’t forget the way I feel when she is near.

My mom is near Baby Boy now. Anyone can see the love on her face. I know what she’s thinking. Although she knows the stakes, she is filled with hope because she knows his parents and because she knows they will teach him about Jesus.

I’m pulled into the present when my husband and I step onto the driveway. We get ready for the day and he leaves for work.

Later in the day, I talk to my husband at work. Still no baby. He can’t concentrate. Neither can I. My thoughts are interrupted by a short text from my son. Please pray for Baby Boy. His heart rate is low and the doctor recommends a c-section. My husband and I pray. He texts our children. I text my brothers and sister. We ask for prayers from Baby’s people here. 

Dozens of people on both sides of the family are praying. Dozens are ready to welcome Baby Boy. People who already love him and are ready to cheer for him. There are lots of us, hundreds even, but not as many as he has on the other side.

My son and his wife are in a waiting place, a sacred place where time intersects eternity.

I remember the last time I felt like this. 

Seventeen months ago my oldest son and his wife invited me to be present at the birth of my grandson. When I walked into the room and saw the laboring mama’s face, I was overcome with love for her. The room was filled with helpers and medical equipment and the unknown. It was bustling. I walked to her side and held her hand. I looked at my son who was holding her other hand. When the baby was almost here, everything seemed to stand still. The moment of his birth was peaceful and beautiful as we welcomed him into the world. I tried to study every inch of him from his wet hair to his knuckle dimples and chubby legs. 

My phone vibrates. I wonder: Is he here?!?! I read a text from my son with the news. Baby Boy is here! Baby and mama are well. He’ll call soon.

Welcome to the world, Baby Boy. 

Welcome to a place filled with light and harsh reality. A place filled with miracles and burdens. A place filled with life. 

And if we’re lucky, we’ll see the moments when time intersects eternity.