In May 2020, my sister Jennie was waiting to give birth to her first child in the middle of the coronavirus pandemic. The last few weeks of pregnancy had been pretty stressful for a number of reasons, and my brother-in-law wanted to encourage Jennie and help boost her levels of oxytocin—the ‘cuddle hormone’—which plays a key role in triggering contractions. He asked family members to send videos which he could show Jennie around the time of the baby’s arrival. This poem—or rather, a video of me reading the poem—was my response.
Here is where he hands you his labour of love, knitted in threads of eternity.
I love the imagery in Psalm 139 of God ‘knitting’ us together in our mother’s womb. I had often drawn encouragement from this image, but as I am not a mother myself, I had not previously given much thought to it from a mother’s perspective. As I 
reconsidered the psalm, my sister’s experience—as a mother about to give birth—was at the forefront of my mind.
The moment of birth is such a mystery. The eagerly-awaited person is, as yet, unknown, even to his or her own parents—until she is suddenly, wonderfully revealed. I imagined birth as a handing over from God’s care into my sister and her husband’s; a moment of commissioning.
Jennie is not usually a poetry fan, so I took a risk in writing ‘Bundle’ for her, but poetry is the best way I know to express things that are close to my heart. Fortunately, she loved it. Afterwards, I discovered that Psalm 139 is her favourite psalm; she reminded me that it had been read at her wedding. Jennie liked the implied reference to DNA in the poem, and way it speaks of the Mother heart of God, recalling Isaiah 66:13 (NIV):
As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you; and you will be comforted over Jerusalem.
God revealed Grace Elizabeth to the world on 23 May 2020.
Bundle
Psalm 139.
For Jennie.
God has been knitting.
All of these long nights
and days, he
with big, world-holding
hands, has taken up his
woman’s work in you,
tiny chains and strings of purl
caught up on minute,
universe-spinning needles.
All of these long weeks
and months, he has woven
within you: heart,
and eyes, and toes
and lungs for breath, spun
from the candy floss
of his own gold light, and
thin air, and love.
All of these days, he has
laboured, but now his
spool of thread hangs short.
Put out your hands.
God has a gift for you,
knitted in a pattern
drawn up for himself
in the time before
he gave birth to time.
Here is where his labour
ends so yours can begin.
Here is where he
hands you his labour
of love, knitted in
threads
of eternity.
