Years ago a read an interview with guitarist Carlos Santana. There was one part that stuck out to me, still to this day. The interviewer asked him, “Have you ever experienced a miracle?”
His response was unusual.
“Yes. I think it should be mandatory that once a year, you have to see a baby being born. Just like you have to have certain grades to pass, if you don’t go see that, witness the miracle of life, you don’t graduate. ‘Cuz once you see a baby being born, you’re connected to the miracle of life. Less disconnected, it would change people.”
Mandatory birth watching. Huh. Watching a kid being born once a year seemed a bit…weird. This was before kids were even on my radar, and I thought this a strange statement to make. Probably not gonna be happening for me anytime soon. But it would later.
I think I could see where he was going with it. There is nothing more miraculous than life.
Last week, I was sitting in Hill Auditorium in Ann Arbor with my family. We were listening to an orchestra perform Handel’s Messiah in its entirety. It’s was 3 hours long. At one point, the following thoughts rushed in. I quickly scrambled to type them in my Notes app as they spilled out:
Do you ever wonder why most women get in line to hold a newborn life? They get giddy and excited. They just want to hold that baby, and fast. Why are we so overcome, overwhelmed, and speechless when we behold an infant? Especially our own. It’s beyond precious. Nothing compares. We just know that this little life is special. Sacred, sparked with a touch of the divine. We’re mesmerized. While most guys are scared to, it’s true—there’s nothing quite like holding a baby. (Guys are always afraid they will drop it.) How did this living and breathing human come from inside another human? A mystery. It has to be a miracle. God’s into life, that’s his business. Not death. We get to bear witness to this all the time, every day, a regular occurrence. A newborn life—perhaps the greatest miracle—the evidence of life.
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I love holding babies in church. I take any chance I can get. I think nowadays I scare a baby, and he or she will usually cry after a few seconds. Maybe it’s the beard? It never used to be this way, believe it or not. Babies never used to have a problem with me holding them. They would remain fairly calm.
I remember vividly the day my son and daughter were born. I remember the room, the furniture, the semi-dim lighting of the room, the non-hospital vibe. Distinct details. I was a day like no other. There are only 4 rooms in the ABC hallway (Alternative Birthing Center) at Providence Hospital in Southfield, Michigan. My son and daughter were born IN THE SAME ROOM, 19 months apart. That room is indeed a sacred place to me and my wife. We returned years later to show our kids the room they were born in.
Moments after our first child Waylen was born, a warmth entered the room. The atmosphere, the temperature changed. I remember looking up at the ceiling, sensing something. In my minds eye, the visual I got was something like God giving us a thumbs up (in approval).
I heard God whisper into my spirit, “I approve of this. I approve of life. I’m into this.” I felt his blessing wash over the room. We were being blessed, in that moment.
I remember the aftermath too. The next few days and weeks. They were a blur of exhaustion and exhilaration. I often had no clue what day it was. I was sleep deprived—my wife much more so—but we were experiencing wonder and joy like never before. I was just completely taken with my son. It was a magical time.
I would study, stare at him. Examining every detail of his small life. Taken by beauty. I think we probably kissed him 1,000 times in the first few weeks alone. I remember watching him breathe, for what felt like a very long time—his little inhales and exhales were captivating. God was causing him to breathe, just like he does you and me. During this new family season, I wrote several poems as I was taking all this in. Here are a few:
The Miraculous Is Here (for Waylen)
skin to skin
belly to belly
this is where
new life begins
i’ll give you my world
all i have is yours
i hope to pass on the keys
so you can unlock any door
seeing you here
has got me on my knees
welcome to the world, Waylen Josiah
you are my only son
in whom i am well pleased.
God Taught You How To Breathe (for Shiloh)
God taught you how to breathe
you didn’t learn it yourself
you inhale and exhale naturally
in your own little way
He puts you to sleep with the stars
and wakes you up with the sun
your small breath is precious
little one
i feel your tiny breath
on my skin
when i get close to you
i study every detail
new feelings start to brim
i admire every feature
even the smallest grin.