by Frank Pauc
This first appeared in Frank’s blog on December 21, 2021 [and in The Havok Journal on December 24, 2021], as “Baby.” It is republished here with the author’s permission.
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“Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory, do we come From God, who is our home: Heaven lies about us in our infancy.”
“Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The soul that rises with us, our life’s star, Hath had elsewhere its setting, And cometh from afar.”
—William Wordsworth
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At Christmas, many people display a creche, a manger scene. The focus is always Jesus, the Christ Child. All the other figures in this display gaze at the infant with adoration. They recognize that the child is divine.
Every child is divine. Every baby comes from God.
When I held my little grandson, Asher, in my arms early this morning, he was warm and tired. When he rested his head and slowly went to sleep, I could hear his soft breathing, and I could feel the rise and fall of his chest. I could smell his hair next to my face. I could see his right cheek against my shoulder.
Asher was at peace, and so was I.
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