"It's happening..."

It's 4:15 a.m., and our daughter Candace walks into our room and says, "It's happening...". We knew what that meant. We knew what was happening. Life. Life was happening. New life was being born. Number six grandson was soon going make his grand entrance into this crazy and awesome world. Enter Roman Grey: take your first breath, be cleaned up, footprinted, wrapped in swaddling clothes and handed over to your "glad-it's-over" and overjoyed mom (her first words to her newborn were: "I've missed you!").

Candace and her family stayed at our home because the hospital was close by and she was in the "any day now" mode. Soon after she woke us up, Mark, Candace and her sister Jenni were on their way to the hospital in one car and my wife followed in our car. Then...it happened. According to the World Population Clock, Roman Grey became the 6,485,000,000th person (give or take a few thousand) to grace the planet Earth with a witness of the image of God -

Later that morning my whole tribe filled the hospital room in which dwelt the new celebrated baby: my wife, all the 6 grandkids, my two dear daughters and their awesome husbands. At one point, I was observing it all through the lens of my camera, taking scores of pictures of all the life that was happening in the room: everyone taking turns holding the baby, Mark wiping the creamcheese off the new baby's head (his sister Ivana accidently anointed him from an Einstein's bagel she had just eaten), Candace, thankful for the quick delivery (about an hour), reminissing with her sister Jenni - the unofficial but effective doula (birthing coach) - over that recent emotion-filled hour, Jillian jumping for the string that held the "It's a boy" balloon which was stuck to the ceiling. I thought, "This is life! Life is good! Kids, grandkids, joy!" I felt like the richest man in the world.

It was still happening. My family who brings me so much joy, was happening. Life was happening. Newborn life. Family life. I felt very bless'd to be alive. And it's still happening.

As Grand Poobah of the tribe, a prayer for Roman Grey seems to be in order:

"Father in heaven, bless my new grandson Roman Grey. Thanks for his awesome parents and family You've given him that will love him, and model for him Your ways. May he grow up to be a strong man of God. May his life be a tale of great chivalry wooing people to You*. May he contrast this grey** world with the many colors of Your ways and Your love. In Jesus name and for His sake!"

* Roman - from the French word romance, which means: to court or woo romantically; treat with ardor or chivalrousness, or, the colorful world, life, or conditions depicted in such tales

** Grey - dull or dark - as in a gray, rainy afternoon, or, lacking in cheer; gloomy (a gray mood).