Cappuccino, triops and life as we know it

Last night, when I couldn't sleep (which I'm sure had nothing to do with the cappuccino I relished while out for Mommy/Daughter time with Anne), I kept returning to the triops. Not literally returning -- I was snuggled cozily in my bed, happy to leave the triops to their brightly lit, 60-watt sleeping spot -- but rather rethinking Betsy's reaction to her find. Everyone's reaction. The delight, the relief, the excitement. It was all about life.

I just took a peek at Dictionary.com. It blithely tells me that "life" is:

"The property or quality that distinguishes living organisms from dead organisms and inanimate matter, manifested in functions such as metabolism, growth, reproduction, and response to stimuli or adaptation to the environment originating from within the organism."

Hmmm. Yes. That's all true. But it fails to tell me this: why is it so unutterably exhilarating? Why did the birth of these uncomely little creatures inspire such happiness? Why do I feel completely satisfied that they are motoring around a small tank in my kitchen?

There's the usual suspect: it makes the children happy to see their experiment work. Yes. Yes, it does. And it's true that what makes them happy makes me happy, unless you count jumping on the bed, which, truth be told, sometimes makes me happy, too.

But, there's something more. This life business, this animation, this brio and verve, vitality and motion ... this being is more than an experiment. Being in on the start of life -- whether it's adding water to triops eggs, or reading of Dr. Frankenstein's desire to create it, watching a kitten being born or looking forward to one's first baby -- does something to us. The baby excitement is understandable (of course we look forward to a new baby, you silly homeschooling woman ... is this what you're teaching your children?) But why are science experiments involving life so irresistable?

Because even in homely little triops, evidence of God abounds. "The miracle of life" has become such a cliche that we lose sight of its truth. Am I really gushing over these odd little prehistoric creatures? Yes. Because they are God at His most basic and His most complex. How does He do it? He creates a simple creature that inspires in us, His most complex, disproportionate emotions of wonder, awe, and excitement.

In my atheist days I would have roared with laughter at the silly Christian, waxing poetic over something purchased from the science section of Hobby Lobby. But today? Today I know that God is in all details, and the detail that makes a little girl shout with joy over life -- any life -- is a detail I want to be in on, it's a bounty I want to share.


Life, in all its varying forms, is intoxicating. God meant it to be.