Saturday, November 17, 2012


I like the artful way Rob Bell's short film "Breathe" reminds us of our fragility: creatures of the dust animated by the breath of God. Earlier this month in Nebraska, I met a little grand-nephew for the first time. Isaiah came three months early, so small that his entire hand could fit inside his father's wedding ring. He's one year, now needs oxygen only at night. Soon his own breaths will be enough.

In the final days of Mom's life, after more than 38,500 sunrises here, her breaths needed a little of that oxygen too. When the final one came at last, her breath returned to its Giver. Even the healthiest of us who arrive at a wondrous 8 pounds or so would have few breaths ahead of us, were it not for someone here to love us and care for us after we arrive. Days are numbered. So are breaths. Love can't be counted or quantified. Love never ends. Life is because love is.

All a miracle.

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