Dear God, Standing against the morning sunlight, she’s beautiful. Her small, shapely body is round and full — inside her womb, our child plays. She tells me how this tiny, divine person pushes and moves and stretches and floats on a life-giving island known only to females. Silhouetted against the 6 a.m. sun I watch her as she rubs her belly, reverently, touching this child she so willingly bears. Heavenly father, she is so frightened. Each night she prays, asking you to help her. She seeks your guidance; your forgiveness. She prays that you will take care of the life growing within her. She prays because you, father, are our only hope. The doctors, though upbeat, tell us this newest member of the human race will need three separate surgeries to ensure its life. The first, to place a shunt inside an artery flowing into its tiny heart. The second, to literally replumb the top portion of the heart; the third, a similar operation on the bottom. That news devestated her. I felt her sob ...
A blog dedicated to good writing and journalism as a career. Inspired by the poetry of Paul Lawrence Dunbar. Consider this that small, funky coffee shop at the corner of Main and Cyberspace. All stories are written by M. Scott Carter, chief political reporter for The Oklahoman. Your comments are welcomed, but only if you're willing to include your name, we don't do anonymous. My name's on every story, you want to play in the big leagues? Post yours, too.