Braking for a baby
Still reading The Divine Mileau and The Soul of America, but I spent yesterday babysitting my oldest granddaughter. It was a different kind of research in my pursuit of hope. She’ll be a year old in September. Her ready smile, her occasional reach for me, her energy and determination, her fearlessness, all call forth and nurture hope in me. She and her parents are the next generations and maybe they can do more than we could. That’s my prayer as I hold her in my arms, breathing in the scent of baby soap and sweat, while she watches the cars go by on her street, or drifts off after finishing a bottle, or clings to me because she’s not quite awake and ready to take on the world.
Those are the moments when I worry that the world we are leaving her may be bleak. And so I pray more. A day spent in her company is a lesson in being present, trying to let go of worries beyond the sharp edge of the coffee table and whether or not the basement door is closed. I must confess that when my mind drifts off to current events, she calls me back quickly. So, today, a brief respite from reading and writing.
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