and i ache to hear them all.
sometimes it's a whisper of wind in the trees,
the Voice speaking courage, dearheart. be still.
other times it's that symphony of noise, be it music or laughter or so many voices
it's a triumph and a rejoice in the key of F and C and B and G
or it's that hiss of steaks on a grill or the sciff of a scoop through a tub of mint chocolate chip
the edible noises that comprise more than one sense at a time.
but who knew a rush on a small hand-held device could be such music
such a symphony that culminates in fierce love for something yet unseen?
because a fourteen-week heartbeat proves life when there already was.
and worry breathes a final breath when something concrete is held in the ear.
my frame was not hidden from You when I was made in the secret place, when i was woven together in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in Your book before one of them came to be.
i feel like i am part of something sacred, something precious. and i'm overjoyed with this preciousness that is the soft rushing of my unborn one's heartbeat.
it has sealed something on my soul, something magnificent.
i am mother, and i have been for some time. but now i understand and i feel it deep in my core, where i am treasuring these things in the darkness.
so i whisper through my tears of overflowing joy to the small one moving, unfelt but dancing beneath my skin, just as my Father has whispered to me.
for He has overcome the world.