As some of you may know, I was hoping the Duchess of Cambridge would find it in her heart (or elsewhere, I suppose) to wait until we were settled in the UK to have her baby. She kindly obliged. Sam and I were running errands and such on the day the future king was born, but we had perfect timing! We saw early on that they had checked “into hospital” and that she was in labor. We watched on and off throughout the day as Waity Katey had her revenge. This was, in fact, my favorite part of the whole thing. I’m sure you will agree with me that if specifics or important information aren’t available, the American press often make things up or ramble on and on, apparently not needing something like pesky little details to survive. The Brits though seem to be quite upfront about the lack of specifics. The following are actual quotes, recorded from BBC or SKY news throughout the day on the 22nd. Some of them were repeated often and usually with the typical British snark.
“We don’t know anything. All the sort of confections that have been made by foreign correspondents here is pure speculation.”
“What we will have is speculation… What we won’t have is any news until after the birth.”
“Now I can imagine we will receive very little information from them.”
When asked how for a rough estimate of the information timeline, the journalist replied:
“We will be the last to know, as it should be!”
There you go… these guys know their place.
Then, while trying to fill the time, this was mentioned:
“One must assume the Royal Gynecologists are with her now, assessing her.”
Not one, but two Royal Gynecologists. In kindergarten when they were wee chaps, do think they told their teachers that they wanted to grow up to be THE Royal Gynecologist? … Well if so, their dreams must be crushed, because now they have to share their post.
And one of the later comments:
“To be honest, we have NO details of what is happening here during these twelve plus hours now…”
And the reporters seemed to get more manic and sweaty throughout the day. Did I mention it was one of the hottest days recorded in London (and much of England)? The locals we ran into kept “winge-ing” about the heat, saying they were melting. But, considering most of the country is without “air con” some of the moaning was understandable.
But finally, the announcement was made. We had great timing and caught it live. The baby was born. Third in line to the throne. And not too long later, we watched the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge themselves present their little prince. They seemed ecstatic, overwhelmed and anxious, as I’m sure many new parents are.
Then, the celebration began. Shouts of congratulations, the Royal Marching band, the town crier announcing the birth details. Thousands of people gathered around London, at the hospital and outside Buckingham palace, hoping to catch a bit of history. As they placed the traditional easel and framed announcement outside of the palace, people erupted in cheers. A celebration fit for a king. When the Prince of Cambridge’s name was officially announced – George Alexander Louis – it was met with even more acclaim. Exciting to watch, for sure. If I live to see Prince George become King George, this will be a fond memory to look back on. The birth of a king.
Now, as I think back on it, I realize the stark contrast between the birth of this king, and the birth of our King. Had hospitals been around roughly five thousand years ago, I doubt Jesus’ birth site would have been surrounded by adoring onlookers waiting with gifts and kind words. Would there have been room at the hospital? Would people have tried to steal glances at Mary and Joseph through the windows? Would people have stood in the heat, waiting hours for the details, or just to hear his name announced? Would they have fully understood the importance of what was happening? Do we even fully grasp it now?
Our King arrived to a far more humble celebration. The wise men and shepherds came to worship, guided by a star; their own invitation to the royal birth. Our King chose not to be born like a King. Or live like a King. And certainly, he didn’t die like a King. Why? Because he traded the glory that he could have had on earth – the lavish gifts, the earthly riches, the honor and fame that would have lasted from his birth on – for you.
Mark 10:45 “For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give His life a ransom for many.”
Life had to be sacrificed to pay for our sins. The King of Kings, Jesus Christ, laid down his more-than-royal life for you. Yes, YOU. And me. But, even better, he rose again, conquering death for us all.
Romans 6:4-5 “We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly also be united with him in a resurrection like his.”
It was certainly exciting to watch the future King of England, held by the next King of England. A bit of history that will probably hold importance for quite a while. But nothing compares to the knowledge that one day I will see the true King face to face in heaven, and spend eternity with him.
Romans 10:9-10 “If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.”
A reason to celebrate indeed.