Life in a cotton burrito

There he was! 7 pounds of life wrapped up in layered cotton borritos, my third grandchild. So perfect in every way. As I pulled away the layers of swaddling blankets it occured to me that I had not done this for some twenty-odd years to my own child, and then he looked at me. Yes, yes, I know at this age a new born infant can only see foggy masses, but it was me, and I am telling you he was looking at me. I wanted to see his feet, tiny little pitter-patters with tiny little appendages so cute you want to put bbq sauce on them. And his hands...two little 'reachers' with perfect little pokers and grabbers. And then he took my right index finger, and squeezed it, so tight that I felt it from the center of my heart to the bottom of my toes. I was a goner. If I could have taken him to Wally World he could have checked off every thing on his list. Back to his feet...no booties...who could put booties on these feet? Well, I had to wrap him back up, but I did not have to leave him just laying there. Mama was asleep. So off we go to the enchanted land of the 'Lounger' in the corner...he was mine to have and too hold for at least thirty minutes, because that is how long the nurses wait to come in and snatch the babies away. (yeah, yeah, they have their jobs, too.) and I was doing mine. So I told him a very short story about mouses that live in shoes, and a goose that was always loose.

And then I looked at him again, his eyes closed, mine closed, too...right after I kissed him on the forehead, and whispered in his oh-so-cute ear...'you are loved.'

I think he knew what I meant, because that is when he 'tooted.' It was a tootie from a cutie. (ha-could not resist) I wondered if he knows that I will love him unconditionally his whole life...no problem. I hoped and prayed that his parents will never even think of telling him he was the cause of their breakup...they cannot be that stupid, but it makes me wonder. I will always pray for them. His mama has no job, no car, no place she can call her own...and he lives elsewhere, and gives her what money he can when he works. Will they know the right time to tell him he is more important than a pack of cigarettes, a party, I will give the benefit of the doubt for now, or will a late-night run for beer be more important...will he be left alone? I don't think so. Will they tell him he is loved more than life...and that when he asks them to read him a story before he goes to bed at night, they will...and then one of them will kneel by his bedside and pray for the exact things that I do? I pray so.

And will he know that when the time comes when he is saying his good-byes to me .... will he know that he was loved from day one? Yes, no hesitation there.

So back to his face, so innocent, so pure, and then I hold him to my face, and hear his breath, but most importantly...feel his breath on my face, and I am pulled out of that dark tunnel and he is the light at the end of it. I will try harder to be a better person for him, I will find the time for those books, those boring school activities, because I know in my heart of hearts that one or the other of his parents will not have the time, or want to share these little 'chances' at life...some time or another, because thing happen...time passes, tired turns to exhaustion, and the little bundle not be so tiny.

And then I thought for one brief moment which seemed like a life time...of all the unwanted babies, all the ones that were not important enought to keep, all the ones that were secondary priorities, all the ones who could not thrive...and then I wept for them, but not for him...he will be one that will be cherished for exactly for what he is, Life in a cotton borrito, sounds silly I know...and I do believe in God, and I do believe in all that is good in life...and I do believe that it takes a village to raise a child whether it be a community, a church, a fellowship...take time to love rather than to put aside their thoughts and dreams when you hold them close. It is so difficult these days raising children, too many jobs to work at, at home and away...too many stresses and not enough time to even want to deal with whines and cries in the middle of the night...but wait...no time like the present, some pun intended here...Life is not a party, but our children are gifts, presents to us from God...wrap them in swaddling clothes just as Mary did, and cherish them forever.                Thanks...