The Sound of a Broken Heart
This Saturday morning our family wakes up to the sound of a new person in our house. He’s small, so gentle. He doesn’t make much noise. While he doesn’t need much attention he certainly gets plenty. At 11 weeks he’s become more attentive over the last 7 days he’s been in our care. He’s started to chew on his own hand, look around for voices he recognizes, and even to seek out Eskimo kisses. You know, baby things that babies do that make people love them unconditionally.
He’s an adorable, and temporary, addition to our family and it’s absolutely wonderful having him with us. This morning I woke to the perfect scene of my wife contently holding the baby in my favorite chair. So struck by the moment I didn’t even care they were occupying my chair.
In my heart I felt a tinge of fear deep and a fleeting sense of loss. Why? I don’t know if it is my head trying to remind my heart or my heart trying to remind my head. Remind it of the risk of pain and of the pain in loss. What if he doesn’t stay long? What if you feel like “the system” gets it wrong for him? What if it doesn’t work out the way you envision? What if…
After all what is life without the risk of loss? What is life if it’s predictable, calculated and safe?
Besides, predictable, calculated and safe are all an illusion. It’s more dangerous to go about our lives pretending that we can control both the circumstances and outcomes. In reality, most of the time, we control neither.
So why not live, and love and risk? Why not?
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body, but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!” – Hunter S. Thompson