Rites of Passage

This past week, I have been especially reflective as my dear friend cautiously and yet fearlessly welcomed her newborn baby son into this world, two months too soon. The complications caused by the pregnancy has left everyone on edge and on their knees praying to our good God to show His true colors and grace Levi with attentive doctors and miraculous progress. At the same time, my 101 year old McGrandpa found himself in the hospital for some fractured bones that were preventing him from walking without excruciating pain. These two lives at bookends of my time scale, being the oldest and youngest people I know, made me think of the challenge that it is to enter and leave this world. Birth and death have never been easy or graceful things, as much as we would like them to be. But perhaps this is part of the rites of passage in order to prepare for the new world that we enter upon birth and upon death. The cycles of life continue, whether or not we stop to appreciate the moments. Yet I don't see these cycles of life as graceful as the sunrise and sunset, as smooth as a baby's bottom or as calm as my grandpa's spirit. Rather, I imagine these cycles of life as erratic as exploding volcanoes, as rough as the bottom of my feet and as boistrous as a Palmer Family Christmas party. For what purpose? To prepare us for the next life perhaps. Levi is a fighting warrior, in the words of his father, and my grandpa continues to joke from the hospital bed about being able to tune his dentures with a fork. Indeed, they are gaining their rites of passage as we speak.