“The birth of a child — life’s most dramatic answer to death — this is the growing edge incarnate. Look well to the growing edge!”
Images of newborns in cots, just borns, taken immediately from their mothers, surrogates for rich adopters, with expressions of their faces which are heart breaking and which strike deep into my memory. My memory is telling me that I know how that feels. I’m reading that expression in my guts, in my broken heart. The ‘growing edge incarnate’, perhaps that is what we search for the rest of our lives!
Look well to the growing edge. All around us worlds are dying and new worlds are being born; all around us life is dying and life is being born. The fruit ripens on the tree, the roots are silently at work in the darkness of the earth against a time when there shall be new lives, fresh blossoms, green fruit. Such is the growing edge! It is the extra breath from the exhausted lung, the one more thing to try when all else has failed, the upward reach of life when weariness closes in upon all endeavor. This is the basis of hope in moments of despair, the incentive to carry on when times are out of joint and men have lost their reason, the source of confidence when worlds crash and dreams whiten into ash. The birth of a child — life’s most dramatic answer to death — this…
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