Of course I have always loved babies, but there is something very special about this season with Haven, my eighth child. He is almost two and has just reached that dear stage of speaking where he puts a short phrase together, pauses, and then adds another word. (“I love you…Mama.”) I am aware that this is the first time I have ever had the complete pleasure of enjoying a baby of this age without also dealing with extreme fatigue and morning sickness, as I have always been pregnant again by the time our baby is speaking sentences. So I am enjoying it in slow-motion when I can, knowing that it is possible we may not have the joy and struggle of having another baby. And I want to savor this.
I am struck by a baby’s pure delight in ordinary things. How a shiny button is just as valuable as a gold Dubloon. Every night, we have a sweet little ritual where he toddles into my room and says, “Things!” Which means he wants to look at the special things in my jewelry box. So we pull it down, and for a few focused minutes, he takes out the heart pendants and the old watch of my grandmother, the tiny marble cat sleeping on the rug that was mine when I was a child, a feather that I tickle his face with, shiny beads, sparkling buttons, strands of gold and silver. Nothing of real value, but he touches each trinket with awe and joy and real, unpretentious pleasure. I talk to him about everything, and he talks to me with his little broken phrases. It is a highlight of my life. Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder. If only we could hold onto that reverence for the beauty of small things.
This morning, we opened the curtain facing our backyard, and as it moved, a grotesque, oversized vulture lifted up off the grass and perched in a bare tree, where two other hideous birds sat watching. I pointed out the bird to Haven, and he started laughing and squealing. “Cute!” he said. “Love it!” And once again, I fell in love with this little baby’s outlook on life. He has yet to learn the symbols of death and despair. He sees things with wings, flying. He loves them. And so, I decide I will try to love them too.
Oh, God. Restore unto me the wonder with which I once saw this world. Give me sight for the beauty that is all around me, every moment. Thank you for this blessed child who can barely speak a sentence but is teaching me, in simple phrases, how to live.
From the blog:
An early episode where I am talking about experiencing the world with wonder. This was recorded right in the middle of a huge miracle God was working in our family, as I was waiting for Haven to be born.
Our Family Etsy Shop Is Open Again!
We plan to be filling it up in the weeks ahead, but right now we have a couple of Paloma’s little handmade dollies for sale. Check them out by clicking the image of sweet Paloma below.
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Sending love and the first bright faces of the daffodils,
Mackenzie