And Sarah Laughed..
And Sarah laughed she did she laughed to think that she might be
The mother of a child the thought was simply wild and funny
Old lady gonna have a baby, Gonna hold inside
Old lady gonna have a baby, Gonna finally sing her lullaby
Two weeks ago, before the CPS grab-and-run child stealing event, God gave me this notion. That it was my time to sing lullabies with my beloved children. In those moments of revelation, I saw the unfolding of the evidence that women are not to end loving and mother children at whatever age they are reaching for, but that women are naturally mothers and God has given us the gift of raising children His children to guide, guard and protect.
I remembered a story by my friend Zarah (Sarah) from Pakistan about her friend who needed to take care of her parents, so she was never married. At age 54 when both aged parents had passed she was married to a 65-year-old gentleman. And 9 months later, having never been with a man prior to marriage she gave birth to a healthy baby boy!
I remembered the Huichol medicine woman’s story, having given birth to her 9th child at age 69 said, I think now that is enough children for me.
And from Jesus day, Elizabeth, possibly in her late 40s or older, shared time pregnant with Mary while they waited for the births of Jesus and John who would later be called John the Baptist.
We are never in God’s eyes too ‘old’ to love and raise children, Sarah lived another 37 years, it is thought she was 90 at the time she gave birth, she lived to fulfill God’s prophecy and see her son well into his mission on earth.
Let us respond to what God is asking of us and be the loving mothers, the loving women we are created to be. Let us move more deeply into our life protecting the children of this world, and perhaps having more children, taking in children who need us, and being the loving arms our children can take refuge in.
Huichol Woman
She descended from mountains once her refuge.
Survival impossible in a dried-up briar patch.
She emerged from a wild impenetrable land,
to the terrifying jungle of modern humanity.
She was an elder of an exiled tribe.
To the eyes of a passerby, she was just an old woman.
She crouched low and begged, on the diesel polluted walkway.
I witnessed her crying helplessly for her daily bread.
Her appearance was like that of an old flea-bitten dog.
She was a mangy old creature that had been
kicked around once too often.
She wore yards of colorfully woven fabric,
now decaying against the mixture of oil, sweat and dirt,
defecating off her skin.
She had become a tattered rag bag.
The cloth she donned wound its way around her shrinking body
like an old bandage hiding a festering wound.
She wore these rags
as the last visible evidence of her proud heritage.
Her clothes the death shroud honoring her long absent people.
A senseless new breed of humanity
has driven her tribe deep into the uninhabitable swamps.
Scattered them into the rocky places
where they hope to avoid the inevitable….
Extinction.
