The Cells She Carries

In 2012, researchers at the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center made a discovery that stunned the scientific world. William Chan and his team found that during pregnancy, a child's cells cross the placenta and embed themselves in the mother's body — her brain, her heart, her liver, her lungs. They called it fetal microchimerism. The most remarkable part? When the team examined the brain tissue of women who had died as late as age ninety-four, those tiny cells from their children were still there. Decades after birth, a mother literally carries her child within her, woven into the fabric of her own body.

When scripture tells us that love "always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres," it is describing something that goes deeper than sentiment. Love changes us at the most fundamental level. It writes itself into who we are. The Apostle John put it plainly: "We love because He first loved us." The love of God is not a feeling that visits and departs. It is a presence that takes up residence, that embeds itself in the very center of our being, that refuses to leave even when years pile up and memory fades.

A mother does not simply remember her children. She carries them. And the God who formed you in the womb carries you in much the same way — not as a distant memory, but as a living presence inseparable from who He is. You are not merely loved. You are carried.