There was a five week old baby named Grace at church last night. She slept peacefully through the whole service.
Caroline Grace made the rounds. Walking the center aisle to the back, peering into pews one at a time and grinning hugely at whomever she'd find there, lighting up their nights with Christmas magic and then moving on to the next pew. She'd linger especially long at pews with young children in them. And she was drawn to that sleeping five week old.
She was dressed in a lovely blackwatch plaid and blue velvet dress that Mamie picked out for her last year on New Year's Day. We stretched her into the very same tights she wore last Christmas Eve, when she was not yet 8 pounds, when she slept peacefully through the whole service. She was only 3 weeeks old then, and just three days from her baptism. So tiny. So precious.
I said to the mom of the five week old, "Just imagine, in one year..." And then I pointed at our busy little girl who was chasing after an older child with a lovely stuffed Pooh. She said "I know. I can't wait. And yet I don't want her to get bigger. But I do." "I know," I said, "Those first few months... are... wonderful and awful." Her eyes got big. "Yes," she replied, "Yes."
Just one year... the miracle continues..