Our community recently welcomed a beautiful boy:
Fyneas Wyn Powell
I remember fondly the New Orleans Mission trip Hannah Powell & I were on when she whispered that her and Matt were trying for baby # 3.
A few weeks later, as they announced their pregnancy (amidst a sea of horrific morning sickness), I mused on how Hannah was probably expectant as we talked…and how I had tirelessly worked a woman, laden with child.
Always keen to help, Steve and I volunteered to be on “kid duty”, babysitting Rhys & Carys when Hannah went into labour. Excitement filled my heart when my phone flashed up with Hannah’s name…when we heard news that she was 2, 4, 6 centimetres dilated…and then when Matt called and said:
“He is here.”
We raced the siblings to the hospital to see their new addition, marvelling at the excitement and blessing of new life.
To our surprise we were offered to hold Fyneas, trusted with this new life at such a young and fragile age. As Steve cradled him in his arms, he asked what time he had been born.
The child in his arms was not even an hour old.
Someone asked later how Steve had ended up holding the baby so early on in its life.
I wondered the same question.
Yes I know I am married to him, but that makes me even more aware his skills. Of how he changed his first nappy (diaper) only 18 months ago and has seldom changed any since. Of how part of our honeymoon was spent with me explaining what a toilet brush was.
I am literally fearful of the day someone asks him to cut the umbilical cord between our child and me. I am certain my screams will be louder than the baby’s.
Hannah words spoke wisely as to why she allowed Steve to hold the baby so early on:
“I think he needed to.”
At this time, when life seems so cruel and disease-ridden, Steve needed to see the other side.
How beautiful life is.
The potential of a lifetime held preciously in his arms.
The tininess of a body, perfectly formed.
The sheer dependency and expectancy of life.
The intricate construction of a foetus.
A Bump ever-growing underneath a loose shirt
Now a fully-fledged, alive, human.
The joy that comes in the beginning, when it feels as though time stands still for a minute, as even the angels marvel at the joy of the new.
Here.
Born.
Alive.
One of my besties, Freya, has been a great support through this time. One of the most affirming factors has been her continual talk of the cyclical nature of humanity.
A new life screams its arrival into the worlds as another, maybe just a few rooms away, closes their eyes for the very last time.
As cancer continues to try and grip Steve’s dad, his daughter Joy swells with the anticipation of a second born.
This cycle continues, repeats, renews, every minute.
As Steve and I have openly talked of our plans to adopt, many have asked if we intend to have children of our “own” as well.
As I held Fyneas on Day 1, Day 2 and Day 4 (if I hadn’t been catching the plane to England, I think the Powell’s would have thrown me out of their house), there was a time on Day 4 I just didn’t want to let go.
His 8lb body next to my chest.
His sweetly swaddled body.
His gentle, peaceful reliance and vulnerability.
I could have sat there for a lifetime.
If Hannah had said, “You can have him” or “I can’t look after him any more”, I would have carried him out and loved him as my own, opening his eyes to the wonder of jerk chicken, America’s next top model, street dance and a remorseless competitive spirit.
The grades of the children I help home school have been great, and one loves me helping her to study for tests, with my mix of press-ups and high fives as punishment and rewards.
In England I got an email saying she had 100 on a test and my heart leaped:
“My kid got 100%!!”
Our life is a revolving door of children and teens running into our arms, hugging & kissing, texting and calling. As I prepare for this year’s graduation, I am reminded that these seniors were just 8th grade when I arrived in America.
“My babies are graduating high school.”
In our marriage statement we commited:
“…providing a loving and God-centred environment for all those who enter our home and our lives!!”
Whatever is placed before us, whatever is put into our hands, whatever we are entrusted with
Will.
Be.
Our.
Own.
And if the whole world belongs to Father God, if he is the author and creator of all, is anything “our own” to begin with, even if it comes from my womb?
As we saw numerous people at the !dea Camp comment upon and live out the journey of life with a child who has special needs, I felt that would be, for us, a step too far.
Something we couldn’t handle.
Something we don’t have the ability to handle.
Yet when recently we spent an afternoon looking after such a child, amidst the feeding tubes, limited speech and ankle injury, Steve remarked afterwards that he loved that time and his heart was opened to welcoming that kind of child into our home, if that’s how we were led.
Some may look at us as naïve 20 something’s.
Unaware of the full magnitude of all the things that we talk of.
Caught up in a fad.
And I accept these opinions.
Maybe even agree a little with some.
But know that there is one thing
A thing we
Embrace
Love
Fully understand
Are not naïve about
The sacred, precious, fragility
of Life.
And we seek to uphold that in all what we do.
We will be naïve
Lacking worldly experience and understanding
Simple and guiless
Unsuspecting and credulous
Because people who are
Not burned by the hardness of this world
Unscathed by the expectations of others
Not settled into a predefined box
Step forward in an unrestrained freedom
Believing Father God can do great things.
Who knows what lives may be changed as a result.
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