When things go somewhat according to plan, Andrew or I read to the older girls before they go to bed. We've been working through Narnia (work of the most-delightful kind) and are about to finish The Horse and His Boy. It has been rich for me when I read or get to listen, I've missed a few chapters due to the recent goings on with a very small someone, but I got to read Chapter 11 a couple days ago and the following section has mercifully stuck with me. If you haven't read the book, I'm sorry.
“I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice.
“Don't you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.
“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.
“What on earth do you mean? I've just told you there were at least two the first night, and-“
“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”
"Then it was you who wounded Aravis?"
"It was I"
"But what for?"
"Child," said the Voice, "I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own."
"Who are you?" asked Shasta.
"Myself," said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again "Myself", loud and clear and gay: and then the third time "Myself", whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all round you as if the leaves rustled with it.
“Don't you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta.
“There was only one lion,” said the Voice.
“What on earth do you mean? I've just told you there were at least two the first night, and-“
“There was only one: but he was swift of foot.”
“How do you know?”
“I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you while you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.”
"Then it was you who wounded Aravis?"
"It was I"
"But what for?"
"Child," said the Voice, "I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own."
"Who are you?" asked Shasta.
"Myself," said the Voice, very deep and low so that the earth shook: and again "Myself", loud and clear and gay: and then the third time "Myself", whispered so softly you could hardly hear it, and yet it seemed to come from all round you as if the leaves rustled with it.
I do love C. S. Lewis for his brilliance in explaining many aspects of faith, but in my simple currently-exhausted mind I found these words one of the most illuminating and practical explanations of the sovereignty of God. Yes, a weighty and mysterious topic. My mediocre writing will never answer anyone's questions, but the words of Aslan here significantly melted my heart. In his revealing himself as the underlying current of all the poignant moments in the story of Shasta's life, he (He) reminded me of His presence in all of this. This being my whole life and specifically this year with all the waiting we have done.
Our new daughter, Caroline Drake Ray, was not born until April 28th. 10 days after she was predicted. I had to be induced with Pitocin (exactly the scenario I didn't want), but as my (amazing) midwives and (phenomenal) doulas drove into my head and heart throughout the entire pregnancy...a "successful" birth's only definition is getting to meet your baby at the end. And so my hopes of a waterbirth were sunk and my desires to labor mostly at home and then whisk into a homey birthing room dissolved. I had done what seemed like everything in my own power and will to go into labor naturally and my body wouldn't let go of her. I had forgotten the torturous mind games and emotional instability that being overdue brings with it, but my state was, how shall we say, like shifting sands? That gracious description covers all my bases. By April 27th, all my amniotic fluids were gone and she had to get moving. Of course there are lots of details, but really the most important one is that she was born. Beautifully, intensely, and quickly-like 2 hours and 48 minutes quickly from the start of the Pitocin.
Here's a first look!
I'll be back tomorrow. Promise. Probably with more pictures and less words.
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