I remember the point in labor where you realize everything has just been leading up to this and now it's all really beginning. In a few more minutes everything is going to change and you're just waiting to see what's behind the door. What I didn't realize--at least then--is that behind that door are many more doors, and many more times that you find your basket empty. Thankfully there is always something to fill it.
'Cause I know the soothe of a song when the trap has got me lame,
and I know the chorus of crickets singing out their nightly praise,
and I know the sound of a swelling storm just before it rains.
These are the stones of a holy road
and I pick them up and I gather them as I go.