Whom thou conceivst, conceived; yea thou art now
Thy Maker’s maker, and thy Father’s mother;
Thou hast light in dark, and shutst in little room,
Immensity cloistered in thy dear womb.
~John Donne “Annunciation”
Four years ago, as I headed out to the barn underneath the pink glow of a glorious Sunday morning sunrise, there was something unusual forming in the horizon above the foothills. It began as a solid gray streak across the rosy clouds, almost shadow-like, but then in a matter of a few minutes, at its origin, it became a vortex of brilliance surrounded by clear skies. It was, indeed, womb-like, as if something was imminently to be delivered from the heavens. Instead, it dissipated as quickly as it arose.
No trumpets sounding, not today…
I found out later this was most likely a phenomenon called a “fallstreak hole” and photos were published from across the region, but none seemed to quite capture this perspective from our farm.
Still, it didn’t make me think of rapture. It looked to me like John Donne’s “immensity cloistered” womb, His Light illuminating the internal darkness of this world, this Incarnation born of woman but heaven-sent.
He is no longer “shutst in little room” but continues to transform the wombs of our hearts.