We give birth to so many things in our lives. We create art. We forge friendships. We beget children. These are no small things.
What I notice most about the most significant births is that they are born from a place of surrender. My ego gives up, and I let what needs to be born come forth. With each of my children, such is the nature of their birth. In some of my better writing, the words seemed to form themselves. My most sincere friendships found their own way to my heart and took root there.
This home, this school, this town we find ourselves in now, I imagine the same holds true. In the stillness of the morning, I marvel at the sunlight falling down through the trees. I wonder at the moisture, the thunderstorms, having come from a place not far away experiencing harsh drought. (Believe me, I’m trying to send the rain back home!) I am here for formation. For a true birth to happen, I will have to let go.
That doesn’t mean I let go of all that was, of all who are a part of my life. In as much as this is a community affair, this is mostly a time for me to grow, not away from who I am but more fully into who I am, who I am meant to be. No one says a birth is easy, nor do I hear often that they’re beautiful affairs to observe (aside from those who hold the process near and dear to their hearts when a baby is being born). But I give thanks in advance for those who will serve as witnesses to my own birth, who will hold the space around me, love me unconditionally, and remind me that the ground is still there when I feel I’ve lost my way.