Will The Baby Live?

The woman at the edge of a dark wood stood up after giving birth and wandered away, without a backward glance.

The baby lay still for awhile, exhausted from the violence of birth, smeared with blood and afterbirth. Soon, the baby began to fuss. It missed the warmth of the womb, and it was hungry. It breathed the clear air deeply, the only life-sustaining substance available to it. A spear of sunlight broke through the trees and warmed the tiny body.

As the sun went down, the shadows encroached, and the baby grew cold. It wailed with hunger, and cried for help. No one came for a very long time.

A passing stranger heard the cries and found the infant. He picked the tiny child up and held it close in his warm arms, and hurried down the road.

We hear these stories from time to time, and when we do it is like a blow to the solar plexus. A baby abandoned, a life tossed aside, saved by a stranger through God's grace.

I have always thought of myself as an independent sort of fellow. I was an only child, and often relied upon myself for amusement and play. I have been financially self-sufficient since the age of nineteen. I live alone and enjoy my own company, in addition to the company of others.

But, like it or not, I must accept that I am that baby at the edge of the dark forest. Addiction has stripped me bare, and taken my sustenance. Alone and naked, I will not survive on my own. I cannot make it without help. It is a battle of life over death.



The baby by the woods has one advantage over me. It knows to cry for help. It does not lie there silenced by stupidity. It screams out with all the force its lungs can muster. The baby knows it needs a power greater than itself to survive.



Now, in the infancy my sobriety, I know that willpower alone will not keep me warm, pride will not feed me, and resentment over my circumstances will not lead me to the road of recovery. My arms are not long enough to grasp food; my legs are not strong enough to carry me to safety. I need a higher power to place others before me who will nurture and guide me. I must not shy away in fear, and I must trust God.



If I admit my weaknesses and accept God's help, one day I may become an instrument of God - an outstretched hand for an infant in peril. One day I may be the timely stranger. But, right now, I need to grow.

The topmost painting is by a Colorado artist named Ken Elliott, and was found on Google images.