Part one: Birth

Gavin Alexander Rogers looked so cold when I saw the first picture ever taken of him. Arriving in this world at 2:30 in the morning, he was a vivid reminder of the birth of my four children, and an invitation to stand back and reflect of the meaning of this thing we call “life.”

What a harsh change it was for Gavin, and all of us, to leave the warmth and security of the womb. To be where you are safe, where all your needs are met, it’s a wonder any of us ever arrive. But the time comes and suddenly we are out in the open air beginning a life on our own. Suddenly the sounds, smells and sights surrounding us make us eager to go back to the security we’ve known, but that’s not an option. That’s not where our lives are found.

It’s been many years since I lay on the table, exposed for all the world to see, but there have been countless moments of birth since that day. In each case, such moments have involved leaving the safe and familiar for the unknown and uncertain, going from the place where needs are met to where I need to fend for myself. Every time, my fears have made me want to return to the security of the past, but that is not where life is to be found.

Like Gavin, I must make the scary journey into each new stage, or birth, of life. It will involve pain and the uncertainty of unknown sounds, smells, and sights, but, trusting in the one whose nature it is to give life, I know it’s all part of a journey that, in the end, will lead to the life intended for me. There’s no other way to find that life. Gavin knew it, and so do I.