A new life on this earth

My cousin, Hannah, has given birth to a girl.  A child.  A new life on this planet.

And this new life is barely breathing.

Hannah was in labor for DAYS.  We're talking DAYS of labor.  Pushing and sweating and screaming... waiting for this little bit*h (excuse me) to come OUT!

Well, she finally came out, and has been having severe breathing issues.  She's in natal intensive care.

She was due on Thanksgiving.  Ironic.

Sometimes life emerges into the world a gentle, beautiful, simple thing.  The doctor says, "it couldn't have gone better" and hands you a gorgeous child that looks just like you and makes that eye contact that says, "Thanks, Mom and Dad, for your sacrifice."  That kind of life is easy to be thankful for.  More often, life limps into the world broken, ugly, and barely breathing.  That kind of life is easy to get angry about.  "Why my child, God?"  It's easy to wonder.  "What did I do wrong?"

But that's not the real issue, is it?  The issue is: God can give and God can take away.  How can I love what God has given?

But if I'm honest, I will say this: I get pissed off at God when he messes with my family.  When a family member hits a hard patch I quickly lock eyes on Him, demanding an explanation.  I know he doesn't owe me one, but dammit, I still want one.  "Come on, you all-knowing, all-loving God.  Tell me what's going on here, cuz it looks like you're just being lazy."

Sometimes I'm glad God doesn't answer my questions in the same manner that they are phrased.

Either way.

God, please be near my cousin and my family as we wait with bated breath as to your will for her child.

We will miss you, Miguel!

Last night, my bosses and coworkers threw Miguel a little party (attached to our monthly store meeting) including a cake and some pizza.  Poor Miguel was planning on skipping the store meeting since this is his last month but my boss was not going to let him not attend his own party!  They made a cake with the inscription, "We will miss you."  And, in Mexican tradition, we smashed Miguel's face into the cake before we ate it.  The cake, that is.

Miguel has been with the company for 9 years.  From what I hear it's been a rocky, bittersweet 9 years.  He was hired because he knew somebody who knew somebody.  He didn't have any coffee experience, he had serious tardiness issues, and didn't fully speak English.  But he was charming and had a great sense of humor and extremely hardworking and able to keep up with a fastpaced store.  By and by he was promoted and was eventually given the title, "Manager."  The customers love him, his employees love him, and his bosses love him.  He has been a great friend to me, and has helped me learn how to run the store when he is gone.

But there's some things that people don't know about Miguel.  His family lives in Mexico, just outside of Acupulco.  There, in a modest house filled with many pets live his Mom and brothers and sisters and most importantly, his son.  I believe he is about 8 or so.  A young boy- separated from his father by thousands of miles.

All of Miguel's success in the business world of North Carolina- really means nothing except giving him a way to send money back to Mexico for his family.  Anytime Miguel sees a sale at a store he will buy whatever he can and ship it to his family.  Even if the family cannot use it, they will go to friends and neighbor's houses and give it to those who need it.  Miguel's life has not been his own- it has been lived to sustain the lives of his loved ones.

I don't think I need to try and "moralize" his life here.  I can't think of anything more Christlike (and lonely) than living for such a noble cause and yet being so far away from it.  It is with joy in my heart that I can say "God bless you, Miguel"- the angel from Acupulco- and may God bless your reuniting with your family.