Blue Bundle by Susan L.

  We had our church AGM last night. I was seated beside a friend who had her months old son with her. He only squawked when it was feeding time. As the meeting went on, despite not being a woman who goes gaga over babies, (never have been) I offered to hold him for a while to give her a break. Well, what a joy!
   I'd forgotten the delightful fragrance of clean baby that somehow speaks volumes about the innocence in new life. I'd forgotten how soothing it is to have a sleeping babe's head tucked under your chin. I'd forgotten that holding a child cements you in the moment and even though discussions and motions and seconds and votes swirled around me, they faded into the background as he sighed and breathed. I'd forgotten the sweet noises sleeping babies make.
  I could feel my own tension drift away. I could feel the sadness that's been haunting me fade.
  It was a healing moment. You see, part of me has been reluctant to get close to my own grandchildren. It's because of my own brokenness. It's bothered me a lot because I couldn't get past the idea that they might be taken away or somehow no longer be part of my life. I could feel the wall between us knowing that it was one I'd built. It has prevented me from connecting with them. It's completely fear based and so unfair to them. 
  This is a page turning, wall crumbling moment. The what-might-happens belong in the trash. God forgive me for being so afraid, for believing I need to protect myself when You are more than sufficient in all things.
  So I am going to build a swing that hangs from a branch of the old apple tree. It will be big enough and strong enough for me yet low enough for little ones. It's a tangible exercise of hope, that children will be part of my life and I can and will be part of theirs in a meaningful way.
  "Likewise, I say to you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents." Lk 15:10