To be vessel and passage
We receive a gift to carry and pour out to others. We are carved into channels through which God flows love.
Right now are the waning days of pregnancy. Contractions come and go. Intense, then subsiding. I can’t walk without waddling. Sleep is fitful, restless. Comfort is elusive. I wake a hundred times.
Every morning the kids ask if the baby will be born today. No one knows. These are my last days to carry, to be a vessel. Soon I will become the passage.
Each time the priest lifts high the cup and plate, intoning the thundering prayer I’ve heard for decades, I try to understand. What does it mean for God to be held in human hands? To offer us a way to become holy?
