So… a very special baby was born this past week.
There were announcements made about his birth to family, friends and neighbors.
He was born into a wild and beautiful world and into a family who will (hopefully) love him and teach him well.
I happened to hear about his birth in a local newspaper. There was even a photograph.
To respect his privacy and that of his family, I won’t type his name here.
A few things I can tell you about him that are likely:
1. He will never be king or prince of any monarchy.
2. He may never be a household name.
3. Nearly everyone who read his birth announcement forgot it almost immediately after they read it.
Any child, anywhere.
There was another birth this week: a child who likely will be a king, who is a prince, who is a household name – and yet, is he not the same as this or any other child? Born into the same whirlwind of existence?
Each of us was a child once – infant, fresh, new, naive, vulnerable, innocent. And here we all are now, inheritors of this unfathomably exquisite world – what choice do we have but to make way and room for all those who will follow us?
What is so particularly special about this baby born in England to a life that is already decided for him? Of course, I wish him all of the best that this world can offer him. The point I wish to make is that every new and shining face that arrives in this world ought to be equally welcomed, loved, celebrated and revered. There is something deeply precious about the promise of a new life – no matter how royal or how common.
“For each child that’s born a morning star rises and sings to the universe who we are.”
- Sweet Honey In The Rock