He Whispers

I forget what fits, forget how I can be stretched. When I met him, my heart felt too small to allow room for this man who would become my husband. But he took my hand and I grew. My heart molded around him and I learned that he fit—fit like he'd always been there.

My belly rounded, expanded, but I feared my heart could not do the same. Weeks and months I worried, terrified that these little lives growing within me would not also grow to fit. Minutes before, seconds before, I didn't know. But before he drew a breath, I sobbed my own, and my soul sang to see my son emerge into life and straight into my heart. Identical in his very DNA, my second son—only seven minutes later—was also identically absorbed. They fit—fit like they'd always been there.

Such a small thing, this four-chambered muscle, yet it is a wonder. A marvel. Nephews, nieces, sister-in-laws—I stretch around them and it seems that we are all one, have always been. Each time they come, I think it cannot be so strong, I'm just an aunt or a sister or a friend, but they enter in and God reminds me that there aren't titles large enough to encompass Love. Our family is this strange nucleus that expands and ever stays the same. And after each addition, it seems we cannot be more complete. There is just enough. Snug. Close. Knit.

After a time, I begin believing that this is the pinnacle, this is the limit before my heart-walls grow too thin. Life melds into a contentedness and the future is dotted with the names already scrawled. I envision birthdays, holidays, graduations. We are and will be and it is enough.

But I'm graced with little miracles, little stretchings. Today, a new little life slipped in, and I am grown around her. Already, her name is written into me and birthdays, holidays, and graduations unfurl into wide futures. Her little first curls around my pinkie, a joyful vine wraps round my heart. A new baby niece. A new chamber in my heart. She fits—fits like she's always been there.

It doesn't surprise me that man cannot fathom God, stretched so vast, love so deep. But He understands us, understands what we are made of. I think it is His hand, this heart-stretching, quiet and imperceptible. We grow and encompass and make room. He whispers and we move beyond. It makes sense. We are His, have always been. In His heart, we fit—fit because we have always been there.

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This post was partly inspired by Becca Wilhite's fabulous grandmother, who totally said it better.