What would it take for me to be split open? What would it take for me to be split open again?

I think about my girls, how they were literally birthed out of me. How my body made room for them, and it hurt in the moment, but in a way I knew was good. Yes I was being split open, but only because it was time for these girls to come out.  Of course I can have these babies. A woman’s body is made to birth. And if they never come out, won’t we both die?

I think about how worth it they are; how when I look at them I don’t feel twinges of the labor it took to bring them here. I only think of the joy that I have, watching them make their own way in the world. Would I be split open again to get something as wonderful as these ginger headed sprites? Loves of my life first and second edition? Of course I would. Without a doubt. How could I even question?

But those two lovelies, one proof of God’s promises, the other in the delight of His surprise, I was only in charge of housing them, stretching to make room for them. I simply waited as the master artist carefully crafted them, and when it was time birthed them into this world. Do I trust my hands to knit this all together like the masters hands knit my ginger headed girls? Do I trust that the split would be hard, but good? Am I willing to stretch myself as I make room for these stories to grow? Could I have the strength to birth these words, to know when it is time to push them out into the world?

My life was crafted to tell these stories. If I don’t birth these stories inside of me, if they never come out, will we both die?