wondering

Last night was my turn at serving in the church nursery. But "served," I must say, seems a far cry from what actually transpired. I was blessed to sit in that corner rocker, holding that beautiful new boy. Sean and I spent a quiet hour doing little more than rocking and staring. I don't know what thoughts went through his little mind, but here are mine.

He's less than three months old. His eyes have yet to focus on injustice; his heart hasn't yet felt pain. All his needs are tended to by his mother--a girl I love like my own--and by his father, who still has that "What has happened here?" look on his face. When he's in the building, Grandpa (John) elbows Grandma (Laurie) out of the way for a chance at touching and talking and tending. The rest of us, so very aware of our lesser-than positions, accept our Sean-crumbs with gratitude. This boy is loved. He knows nothing less.

But tonight, as I hold him close and watch his slender, almost-not-there fingers curling around mine, I think of the freshness of his slate and the span of his possibilities. Who will this child be when he emerges from this infant-fog, when he steps into the world and claims his spot? Will he be thinker ... doer ... leader ... poet? Will the echoes of our worship build into a crescendo and lift his thoughts above himself? Will he offer all his maybes on the altar of devotion? Will he speak to his generation? Will he obey the One who fashioned him?

I don't know any of that. I know only that this moment, in this place, those eyes see me, and those fingers curl about mine for anchor.

Lord God, keep me on my knees on his behalf. Keep me watching on his wall. Help me love him toward You.

And make him Yours ... fully Yours.