Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Chely & Mrs. Blitzer-Wright Have Twins, And I Have Disproportionate Happiness

I'm becoming fairly confident that something is wrong with me.

Why else would I be so jubilant about the birth of identical twin boys to Chely and Mrs. Blitzer-Wright?

Why did my eyes tear up when I read the tweet that the babies were safely born and healthy? When I learned, last week, that Chely Wright was hospitalized, why did I instinctively turn to prayer? Why do I imagine, in my mind, the little fingers and toes and baby bundles wrapped in soft blue blankies?

What on earth is wrong with me? Why...Lord, why am I on the edge of tears simply typing this up?

It makes no sense. I do not know this family. I do not know anyone who knows this family; I have no connection to them, and I have plenty of people who I do know who need my love and attention.

And yet the thought of this family, these four people, thrills me.

Maybe it's because of my familiarity with Chely Wright's atypical life; maybe I'm simply happy for her. Maybe I remain slightly undone by the thought of her darkest hours, her despair, the "big ball of pain in pajamas." Maybe I am feeling for the people all over the globe facing their own darkest hours, facing death--no exaggeration, death by beheading--for being LikeChely, for watching the documentary, for reading (I shudder) this dumb little blog. (امید از دست ندهید.)

I just sense the hand of The Almighty here; that's the best way I can put it. A heart-broken woman's life has not only been redeemed, but used to save other lives, to foster a sensible dialogue in hostile terrain, to surprise us all with a Divine Plan that dwarfs "celebrity."

God is good, everyday. That's established. And for whatever reason, I am really, really happy this week over the birth of those babies.

Love and peace and little baby sounds, to everyone everywhere.