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on time, and growing up: part 3 (and that’s the end)

Holding my friend’s baby close to my chest, sensing her small lungs breathe in and out, I pause. The pace of the rushing world slows to an even flow of baby’s breath; gently in, gently out.

When I am near someone so small, who is only in the first chapter of her book of life, I find it easier to seize and enjoy the moment. She yawns, smiles, and studies my face. She cannot speak, but each movement of her eyes, nose, or mouth is expressive and miraculous. She is helpless and dependent, but with a clean diaper and a full stomach she drifts into a peaceful sleep.

It is a beautiful, unworried sleep. The kind of sleep I can only find, now, if I let go of a thousand concerns, regrets, memories, and assumptions. I do not want to remain a baby in my reasoning and level of maturity, but I think this is one area where I’m better off the closer I can come to resembling this reposing little person. I can rest as peacefully as I can depend on God to supply my needs, just as she depends on her mom to supply food and clean clothes and a warm place to sleep. She doesn’t worry about those things. She rests.


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