It's Story Time

Fifty-five years ago today a baby boy was born, the third son of a mother not yet twenty-five. At the time of his birth, his father was serving in the US Navy, stationed in Trinidad, far from their small hometown in Ohio. Three months passed before the baby's father saw him.

Though he'd insisted the first two sons not be named after him, the father wasn't around to influence the naming of the third. Perhaps she missed her husband. Perhaps she resented his absence. Perhaps it was a bit of both, but whatever her reasons, the petite blond mama defied former constraints and gave this third-born male his Macedonian daddy's name.

They were private people, undemonstrative, reserved. There were topics about which they never spoke, but snatches of information revealed over the years hint at a lot more drama than has ever been openly acknowledged. One can surmise, and one can always imagine.

Today I look at the man that third son became, and I see a beautiful picture of what redemption can do. I celebrate his life, and I thank God for the thirty years of it I've been privileged to share. But this year, more than any other, my thoughts turn to his mother. I imagine her fifty-five years ago, so young, in many ways so alone, laboring to bring him into the world.

I think of her, because today I await another birth. My daughter's daughter.

In one sense, this event we anticipate is nothing unique. And yet, no matter how expansive the forest may be, a new branch on our own little tree feels exactly like the miracle it is. Life bursting forth, carrying in its tiny new presence the history of a whole family and, in some ways, the whole human race. Birth is the universal experience of universal experiences. The "once upon a time" with the ink still wet and all the subsequent pages written only on the heart of God, ours to turn with wide-eyed discovery one day at a time.

Every story starts with a birthday, but no story stands alone. It's part of an oeuvre, a vast body of work containing tragedies, comedies, drama, and shtick. There are heroes and villains, fair maidens and wicked witches. Glorious conquests. Dark secrets. Adventure. Sorrow. Romance. Betrayal. Forgiveness. All happening in the context of family. A man, a woman, a child who becomes a man or a woman, forever and ever until the last Amen.

The new story is part of the old, joins it, deepens its plot, alters its course with an irresistible power as awesome and unstoppable as first breath. We can't reverse this course, but we can choose to enter the new story with joy, filling it with faith, hope, and love. 

Today I'm thinking about birthdays. About a boy born fifty-five years ago and a girl whose birth is imminent. About the Love that wrote redemption into the boy's story and that promises every day of the girl's was written in His book before there was yet one of them.

Today I celebrate two lives, and the faithfulness I've seen in the one banishes any fear I might be tempted to feel for the other. My heart is like a little child, seated at the feet of my Father, looking up into His face with eager delight. He smiles down at me, then whispers the words I've been waiting to hear.

"It's story time."

 

Jeanne Damoff looks forward to the pages yet unread, all the way to happily ever after.

Comments

[michael snyder]

First, congratulations as your plot thickens!

And thanks for the outstanding reminder to keep telling our own stories, to keep our own inkwells from drying up.

Sounds like a fun week to be a Damoff.

[Glynn]

My new grandson (and first granchild) was born six weeks ago today, and it's become a whole new world for us. Good story.

[Candace]

Jeanne, that was beautiful "Good morning:)" to Thankful Thursday! HaPpy BirTHdays:))

[Billy Coffey]

So wonderful, Jeanne. I can't wait for your next chapter.

[Katy McKenna]

The best, best, best story of all! So happy for you and your family. And around Sept 1, I will join you as a brand-new Grandma. Blessings and happy birthday to both the "little boy" and his new granddaughter!

[Nicole]

Truth and beauty. Carry on.

[deb@talkatthetable]

oh, and the lilacs....

perfect

[Patricia (Pollywog Creek)]

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. Your writng is so full of joy, it makes me want to sing. May God's blessings abound to the birthday boy and to all the many branches on his tree.