Just When You Think You Know What Life Is About...

Any illusion of having things figured out--of how things are going to be, of what one is going to do, or of what one is not going to do--fade in the increasing glare of a direct confrontation with reality (or maybe I should have wrote, REALITY there?).

Logging on from a hospital room in the neo-natal unit of a hospital 90 miles from home is not where I had intended to spend this Friday evening. But here I am. Or, rather... here we are. By 'we' I mean to say my girlfriend of almost 2 years, Monica, our unborn son, Uriah, and yours truly.

It all started so suddenly last evening after Monica returned home from work. She was getting ready to cook supper when she started to have 'contractions.' Contractions are not a bad thing at 39 weeks... but at 31 weeks they can be a very serious cause for some very real concern. So we rushed to the nearest hospital--which in our case happened to be 30 miles away in the small Northern Michigan town of Gaylord. We ended up spending a sleepless night there, hoping that some of the measures taken by a very sincere medical staff--including our OB/GYN, Dr. Minor--would take hold and ease the contractions some. The last resort of an IV solution of Magnesium Sulfate didn't ease up the contractions one bit (much to our frustration... and, I should honestly add, tears). So we were all rushed to the nearest hospital with a NICU (neo-natal intensive care unit). And now we sit here in Traverse City, having been transported through a blizzard that has delivered over 12" of fresh snow in the last 24 hours (yeah, when it rains... or in this case, snows... it really pours... or should that be 'blizzards?').

It is going on 9:00 PM now. Poor Monica has had intermittent contractions every other minute or so for more than 24 hours now. She is wore out! I can't imagine what she is going through. I am just trying to be there for her as best I can. Giving her occasional drinks of cold water, putting a cool rag on her head, buzzing the nurse, massaging her back, giving her a sponge bath, reassuring her as best I can. They seem like such trifling things... but damn if that isn't the best I can do. Damn if that isn't all I can do!

It reminds me of how much we are still at the mercy of so-called 'Mother Nature.' For good or ill too! Even the best trained Doctors, who have been schooled in the best learning institutions the world has to offer are powerless to determine the course Nature is want to take. We are prey tor forces beyond egoic control here. I could kick and scream and shout and demand and beg and plead. And it would be to no avail. So I am just trying to be a clam presence in the midst of a storm-tossed little boat in the middle of this wide, brilliant, frightening Ocean of Existence. An Ocean where birth and death are perpetually knocking at our doors, whether we realize it or not. An Ocean upon which I pray--pray for safe passage. Not for I alone, though, but for we.

I pray for strength for us to be able to ride this wave out... come what may.
I pray for peace to arise in the center of the anguished cries of labour come too early.
I pray for wisdom to know what to do when doing is a must... a necessity... an urgent command.
I pray ceaselessly, without end. Just as this note to dear friends far and wide is itself a form of prayer. Just as this note is a 'call to prayer.' Hear me shout from the top of the Mosque. Hear me cry out to Allah in good faith. Hear me beseeching the Ocean of Existence to carry us to a friendly shore.