Sharing

Here is an interesting article on crack babies -- who are growing up now. I have thought a lot about what makes a child who he is... and I guess there are no real answers except "a lot of things."

Blessings

Marija and I were back at the Lutheran church again tonight, where we are becoming regulars on Wednesdays. But the pastor was a different one this time, an older one with a longer beard. He came up to meet me before church and suggested I bring Marija up for a children's blessing during Communion, and I said I would, and when it was time he called everyone up to pray and invited us again specially, "And bring Mary up for her blessing!" (She is Mary to most English-speakers around here.)

The blessing I'd never heard before, something about four angels standing at her bedposts and watching over her... I suppose the blessing will work even if she does not really have bedposts? And even if she will not necessarily be spending all night in her own bed?

This road

It's Good Friday today, so mothers' group won't be meeting in the basement of the Catholic church, where a handful of mothers and their older children usually pray the Rosary as I meditate quietly and the young ones play.

Last week, though, a mother had printed booklets with the Stations of the Cross and led everyone in meditations on Christ's journey to Cavalry. We weren't sure we would get past the beginning, since there was a sudden restless surge as children fidgeted or moped or fled completely, but we voted to press on. And things settled as we went through the stations: Christ taking up his cross, walking the streets of Jerusalem, taking the nails in his hands and feet -- and then the mother leading saw that her newborn had finished nursing and she needed to change him.

Marija was restless, so I walked with her, and a older baby went to climb the stairs. Meanwhile, the baby being changed cried a bit, but another mother led us further, describing Christ dying on the cross and then, as tradition goes, being taken down and placed in Mary's arms -- but then the mother leading let out a sob and had to stop. She looked embarrassed as she wept a bit and wiped her eyes and her son took over, and we got through Christ's burial in the tomb, the end of these pre-Easter meditations -- and then it was all talk of new pregnancies and diapers and whether our dear sweet babies are sleeping through the night.