fresh

funny togolese nurses' dress.  sterile covers over my chaco sandals.
hair net. face mask. camera.
OR ready.

dad in action.  hands steady and sure.
woman bulging with 2 tiny lives.

scalpel, retractor, scalpel, force.  1 tiny head.
2 tiny heads.
smacks, cries, slime.

fresh life.

in awe, i gazed at the 2 new faces before me.  dirty, and slippery, and new.  i watched as they took their first crying breaths, their small black bodies floppy and fragile.  squinting eyes, wrinkled skin, matted hair.  twin girls.  tears in my eyes, i held them in my arms the 2 of them already asleep.  wrapped up together.  1 light.  1 dark.  new sisters.  i presented them to their mother, still being stitched, snipped and sewn.  "well done," i said in my broken french, "they're beautiful." she beamed and thanked me as happy tears filled her once anxious eyes.  i was so proud.  proud of her.  proud of my dad.  just proud.  and amazed.

the miracle of life.

baby fingernails on baby fingers on baby hands, wrapped around mine.
teeny and perfect and new.

the husband wasn't there.  at all.  she called him on her cell phone.  from the operating table.

but the grandmother was.
her face, pure delight. she held the girls close.  1 in each arm.  she was proud.  proud of her daughter.  proud to be a grandmother.  just proud.  and amazed.

"akbvay ka ka a Jesu," she exclaimed in her native Ewe tongue.  "akvbay ka ka a Jesu!" over and over.  much thanks to Jesus. she was proud.  and amazed. and thankful.

she held the 2 fresh lives, and i admired them more.  then, she looked at me with hopeful, questioning eyes. she offered me the 2 little bundles and asked, in her native tongue, "will you take them to america?"

what?  i couldn't.  shocked, i quickly shook my head. no.  no way.

2 new, precious lives.  so quick to give them up for a better life.  2 days later, and i'm still in shock.

how could she?  i saw how she glowed, how she beamed with pride, how she thanked me, how she thanked the Lord.

but life is better in America.  right?  or is it just different?

is my 2-story, suburban home with 5 bedrooms and 5 bathrooms better than their mud huts with straw roofs and dirt floors?  is my massaging showerhead better than their plastic cups and buckets?  is my Kenmore combination electric/gas stovetop better than their mud ovens?
i don't know for sure.

but i don't think so.

i think it's just different. this is how they live.  it's a different country, a different culture, a different climate, and a different way of life.

you could argue this a million and 2 different ways. but regardless of whether or not life in America is superior--life is life is life.

and life is a present. straight from the creative Creator.  from beginning to end.  and it's not yours.  or mine.

those 2 new babies didn't belong.  not to the glowing grandmother, or the beaming mother.  not to anyone here.  and not here at all.

just like them, i'm on loan.  you're on loan.  to your family, to your professors, to this earth.  we belong somewhere else. and time is short and the need is wide.  the world is ready, and hunting, and stumbling in the dark.

who will show them the Light of Life?