Twenty-five years ago today, I gave birth. It’s the only truly remarkable thing I have ever done. With a few billion people on the planet, this probably does not seem like much to some. Well, those people would be wrong. Our children are the greatest thing we give to the future. Hope made flesh.
Sometimes people grow up wrong. They become a stain in the world, bringing hate and derision wherever they trod. Yeah, that happens. Not the fault of the birth. Society is a sick, desolate and dying thing. It eats potential like locusts, often stamping out such promise before a first breath is taken. Well-intentioned people with too much power often destroy the possibility of untold numbers of people in their desire to control, in their fear there that is not “enough” to go around. They never tap the potential to find the bountiful reservoirs that can be produced by human ingenuity left to its own devices.
In every new life, there is a hidden and unknown potential to change the world, to move mountains, to create, to solve the unsolvable, to save the hopeless, to see the invisible. In every child, there is this potential no matter who the parents, no matter where the child is born, no matter the circumstances. Every child born on this earth has the potential to better this world no matter their gender, their race, their heritage.
Some would spare these untapped potentials the inevitable pain of life. Certainly, young and as alone as I was, this was an option given me. No, I found myself holding Pandora’s Box. And I opened it and found hope. This is what I saw in my newborn daughter. Hope and possibility. From the day of her birth on a cold December day to this day and for all the rest of my days. Happy birthday, Kate, and thank you for coming to visit this spinning rock in this dark corner of the universe.