During a recent dig through the movie cabinet, wee girlie pulled out our old VHS copy of Prince of Egypt. It's a story I've heard my entire life. Moses' mother, in an attempt to save her son from certain death by Pharaoh, puts him in a basket and sets him afloat in the Nile. He's then picked up by Pharaoh's wife and raised as her own son--his own mother sent for as a nursemaid. Like I said--it's a story I've grown up with. But I see it differently now.
I see a mother whose heart is breaking in a bazillion pieces at the choice she is forced to make. She didn't know the outcome. She had no guaranty that her son would survive the wild and wet ride. But she knew that if she kept him, he'd be killed. So she made a choice. Either way, she lost her son. Her tiny baby boy. I find myself seeing the story through her eyes--a mother's eyes. Could I have done the same? Could I have made the same choice?
There are people in this world I am willing to die for to protect. My children are on that short list. They are also on the far shorter list of people I will kill for. Actually, they are the only two people on that list. But to deliberately place my child--this precious child whose very protection and nurturing I have been charged with--in harm's way? Even if it was the only way to--maybe--save his or her life? I hope and pray that none of us ever have to make that decision. Because tonight, sitting in the comfort of my home, I don't think I could.