Monday Rewrite Part two of a three part reflection on Jesus in the womb.
There has been more anger, more growling, he feels it as she feels it.
Different voices now, and different kinds of movement, as if she has been taken hold of, moved around by others.
Each time she slips away, moves quickly and sends him swaying, though he is bigger now, and has less space.
And he is getting to know another voice, at first angry too, raised, questioning. Like the others.
But not so much now.
He is getting to know that voice well, perhaps a special voice to her.
There have been many conversations.
And little by little that familiar voice has changed. Softened. Sometimes there is even the sound of smiling in it.
He sometimes feels squashed when he hears that voice, and another faint heartbeat, slightly out of sync with hers.
Ba-du…ba-du…ba-du… ba-du…
The two heartbeats bumping up against one another.
As if the two hearts are pressed close, and that’s what’s squashing him.
He has to jiggle about to get comfortable.
He has to do that a lot now and sometimes she doesn’t like it.
Tells him to calm down, to be still, to settle.
She talks to him a lot these days.
He doesn’t know the words but he gets the warmth, the care.
She likes him. He can tell, and more than that. A deeper thing.
She talks to him about something wonderful that is happening.
He can tell from the way she is on the inside.
A kind of peace, a kind of glow almost.
He likes it.
He likes her.
It makes him kick about, his legs quite strong now.
But she doesn’t like that so much, and her voice changes for a split second.
She still sings these days, and her songs take him back to the beginning each time.
To a world in the making, and a time of peace and perfect pleasure.
He wasn’t little then, not like this.
And as strong as his legs are now, they were stronger then.
He could do anything then.
Make anything, go anywhere, running, leaping, dancing, exploring.
He was free, and the world was endless.
And full of possibilities.
What a world that was.
Ouch.
She’s trying to hold him still, he must have been kicking again.
Flapping his arms, flexing his fingers at the memories.
Be calm now, she’s telling him, I’m trying to sleep, don’t you know?
He doesn’t know.
So he kicks again and does one of his perfect smiles.
He wants to be free once more.
He’s getting ready for the world.
Part three next Monday.
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