Two Hours [guest]

Two hours
seems an interminable length
to the husband, father
who stares into the eyes
of his tiny daughter.
Newly thrust into
a darkened room
in this darkened world.
And wonders
if he will have to go about
this enormous task
without her.

Two hours
seems so long
to the mommy, the wife
whisked upstairs
to stare into the bright hooded lights
of a sterile room.
And wonders
if it is her day
to see the face of Jesus.
And pleads with God
to let her stay
to hold him
and raise her baby.

Two hours
seemed like forever
to the mother of mommy
the mother of daddy
when they got the word
“Baby is here.
But the mommy, we don’t know.”
And as they waited
rejoiced
and begged for God’s mercy.

Two hours
ticks by slowly
between one and three
in the morning.
As the wide eyes
and hungry mouth
of a little baby
refuse to conform
to the regimented schedule
of three meals
eaten in the company of the sun.
And the parents yawn,
and gaze
longingly at their bed
occupied by only one.

Two hours
fly by
when she tucks her head
beneath my chin.
Her pudgy embrace.
Her beautiful face.
This precious daughter, miracle
Gift of God.
When she smiles
coos, talks in tongues unknown
the language of tiny angels.

These hours
treasured up in my heart
not chosen, but freely given.
Gladly taken.
Wanted.
Each one a unique and glorious verse
of a new song
an eternal life.
sung by
God The Father.


Beth Linder is currently learning about wife and mommyhood in the Pacific Northwest Autumn. While she usually expresses herself verbally (sometimes quite noisily), she sometimes can find no suitable outlet other than in .doc form.