Yesterday was a tough day. It was gray and drizzly and teary.
I went to the grocery store to get a couple of things for a dessert I was bringing to dinner at our friends’ house. And I saw the most beautiful thing. I saw this fussing two-year-old in the seat of the grocery cart parked next to the diapers. Then I saw his mother put a package of diapers back on the shelf and turn to face him. She was looking into his eyes like she saw his soul and nothing else. No diapers. No obnoxious fussing. No grocery list. No other people but her son. Then she reached up and stroked his forehead with such compassion. Slowly his fussing subsided. But she didn’t stop. She kept loving him. She kept looking into his eyes, like she was listening. Like her two-year-old had the most important thing to say. It was like I saw Jesus in the middle of Walmart, pulling a child into His lap.
I so needed to see what that looked like, because that’s what I imagine Jesus doing for my Samuel right now. Healing.
The friends we had dinner with last night are actually our Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep photographer, Brad, and his wife Sarah. They have two little children,Isaac and Naomi. Happy, happy, happy babies. We saw Brad and Sarah love on their babies like it was a priority. And they shared their babies with us. Isaac spent some time in my lap, reading a Richard Scarry book with me. Naomi held my index finger in her tiny hand, the way I had dreamed of Samuel doing. “We are hoping for a little girl next,” I said as their baby girl grinned at me. Brad expressed his excitement at our plan to have him take our next baby’s pictures for us. Brad will have witnessed some of our most sorrowful hours as he snapped pictures of our firstborn. And maybe he will be there for some of our most joyful hours as he snaps pictures of our squirming second-born. Healing.
I went for a walk this morning, and everything was alive. Sometimes that makes me happy, but sometimes it makes me sad because Sam was supposed to be alive with all these blooming and growing plants. He was supposed to be my spring baby. I would have been at the any-day-now point in my pregnancy by now. On my walk, I was enjoying the sound of birds singing, the feel of the cool air with the hot sun. I saw a young man, probably in his twenties, run across the street to say hello to an elderly woman. She had on rouge and was scooching her walker down the sidewalk. They talked for a moment, the man said, “Hope you have a great day, Mrs. —–,” and ran back across the street to the house he was working on. She had a smile on her face, like she was new and happy, because that man had taken a moment to say hello. Another one of the least of these is regarded as the most important.
I love the moments when I see that though the world disregards fussing babies, widows, and people like my Sammy as the least, the Holy Spirit is still present in this broken world and looks these people in the eye. It’s healing. It helps me wait.