Stillness calmed the room as the nurse placed my first grandson, Miles, on the stainless steel table, draped with hospital linens already soiled by his life fluids. Bright heat lamps illuminated his little wrinkled brow that refused to pose for the cameras—loud wails, shivering, shaking fists—then, muffled weeping. A strange silence swept over us as God visited this holy space, admiring His newest creation. Miles had arrived, and his God was with him.

When the doctor handed my daughter, Tara, her precious little boy, we forgot the anguish of her teen pregnancy. With his arrival came peace. Those who dared to observe his birth joined God in His beaming pleasure. Through Tara's travail, Miles drew his first shallow breath, all red and ruddy, as God's gift of promise. Mercy and grace, twin faces of hope, comforted all hearts, as his storm-dark, blue eyes greeted those who already loved the mystery concealed in this event. 

The first glimpse of my grandson brought a moment of ecstasy. The doctor's butt-slap was loud applause, and Miles' screaming response was a misunderstood song of angels lauding his birth, giving glory to his Creator. All in Heaven pressed close, standing on their balconies with raised hands and voices, honoring God's newest earth-child, as God ushered this baby into our family with a command to all believers to "Welcome Miles!"

Just days earlier, this faceless little boy had been considered an interloper. He quickly progressed to intruder status; then, he burst forth on the scene as the hope for all creation—new life!