One night on a recent church retreat, Luke was getting a little fussy. I took him to the back of the chapel where a few comfortable stuffed chairs and couches sat in a small library nook. Luke and I settled into an arm chair and I nursed him to sleep, pulling a little blue flannel blanket over him as he dozed off.
Another woman, Lisa, who is approximately my age, drifted into the library at some point at crashed on an available couch. She has a few small children too. She put a hand to her head as if she had a headache and fell asleep with a worried look on her face. I’ve been there, I thought.
While slow, sweet singing drifted in from the chapel behind us, I pondered the blanket. It was 80º in the chapel. There really wasn’t any need for it. Why did I pull it over Luke anyway? I suppose because I wanted him to feel safe and warm. Sometimes I look at him and marvel at how big he’s gotten. He’s over 9 months old now – he’s been on the outside longer than he was on the inside now. At other times, like this one, I look at him and marvel at how tiny he is. It makes me want to cradle him in close.
A few minutes later, Lisa’s mother followed her into the library. She had a big fluffy blue blanket in her arms. She spread it out lightly over her daughter while she slept and then disappeared back into the chapel.
I smiled. Somethings never change, I guess.