Gushing over first grandchild; touring amazing home

Believing in love

For the 26 years that I’ve been writing this column, one of my favorite small town items has been to write about new babies. It’s always happy news and it is the one bit of my column that I expect to be saved, tucked into someone’s baby book.

Even more than that, each birth feels to me renewed hope for the world. Yes, of course, hope beginning with our village, expanding out to our county, our country, the entire earth (and, if I may channel Thornton Wilder here), the solar system, the universe, the mind of God.

For what is the mind of God, but the manifestation of love? At least that’s so in my universe. And even further, what is a baby but the manifestation of love? Who would bring a child into this world unless they believed in the power of love over hate, of peace over war? Each new life is a completion of the circle that begins with the mind of God and rolls around, once more, to love, with the blessed birth of a child.

Of all the births I’ve announced in this column, one particular birth came to mind repeatedly recently. Back at least a decade ago, my friend, fellow Bouverie docent, and neighbor, Eleanor Decker, stopped me in the market and gushed, enthused and carried on with great emotion about her first grandchild. When she looked in my eyes and said, with great conviction, “You will love being a grandmother, someday,” it felt like a holy benediction. And so it was, and she was, indeed speaking the gospel truth.

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