Friday, March
22, I spent my day as usual, completing some homework for my online class,
browsing the internet for job leads, and taking a lunch break in front of one
of those ridiculous t.v. shows I’ve gotten hooked on.
The day held
more excitement than a typical Friday, however, because I was also awaiting
word of the birth of my younger sister’s child. She had been induced the night
before, and I expected the phone to ring any minute with the news.
Mid-afternoon my mom called to say that things hadn’t gone as planned and my
sister would be having a c-section—the new baby’s birth was imminent.
I still hadn’t
heard anything by the time I needed to leave home and head to a vigil and march
remembering the hundreds of children lost to violence in the city of Chicago. Eight
hundred and six children killed since 2008, which was, as the slogan for the
event proclaimed, “more than we can bear.”
While riding the
train to the vigil, my phone rang at last. It was my brother-in-law calling
with what I could only assume was some joyful news. Lincoln Jesse had been born
at 4:11 pm, and all was well with baby, mom, and oh-so-excited dad.
The disparate
nature of these two events—a joyful birth and the remembrance of those children
whose lives had been cut short—was not lost on me. Also in the news in Chicago
around that time was the death of a six-month-old baby killed by gun violence. The
birth of a new child is a cause for celebration, but we must not forget that
the sad loss of little ones demands recognition too.
Of course I hope that Lincoln lives a full and healthy and happy life. With a well-resourced and loving family, he is already on his way. More than this, though, I hope that every child lives a full and healthy and happy life, with an abundance of resources and an abundance of love.
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