The judge listened patiently to both sides. He’d heard the arguments before. But this time he ruled in favor of the mother that she should be reunited with her baby.
She would be going home.
Sitting next to her attorney at the defense table, the mother began to cry. So did others in the room, including the judge.
He removed his glasses. Wiped at his eyes. His chin trembled.
No words were said.
The woman on the dais charged with the responsibility to announce “All Rise” began distributing Kleenex.
Prosecution left the room as did the mother’s attorney as she had to hurry off to other cases involving children.
But the judge, the court reporter, and the All-Rise Kleenex distributer joined the family where smiles replaced the tears.
One day soon the little one would be going home.
Not that many miles away at the other end of the age spectrum, lay a wife, mother and grandmother surrounded by her family.
Whispered words of endearment were uttered by faltering voices, unhindered tears fell softly to her pillow.
She too was going home.
One day there will be more smiles than tears.
One day joy will predominate, and the pain of loss will subside.
One day we will “simply marvel,” as Jan Richardson writes in her poem “Blessing for the Brokenhearted,” at “the mystery of how a heart so broken can go on beathing, as if it were made precisely for this.”
One day we will be “struck by how wonderful ordinary life is,” as Jerry Sittser shares in “A Grace Disguised – how the soul grows through loss.”
One day.
Perhaps for now
it can be enough
to simply marvel
at the mystery
of how a heart
so broken
can go on beating,
as if it were made
for precisely this—
as if it knows
the only cure for love
is more of it,
as if it sees
the heart’s sole remedy
for breaking
is to love still,
as if it trusts
that its own
persistent pulse
is the rhythm
of a blessing
we cannot
begin to fathom
but will save us
nonetheless.
4/14/23
Thank you for this lovely tender breath of fresh air…Blessings & encouragements & courage to all your readers!