The gift of nurturing small things during isolation
What deep desire do my sourdough starter and jade clippings represent?
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There were six babies born in our congregation last year, including mine, and then two more early this year. As the director of family ministries in a medium-sized church in a denomination that’s mostly gray, I’ve found this to be something to celebrate.
Now we as a community miss seeing the babies grow. I miss standing in the pews, bouncing our babies strapped to us in their carriers, whispering, “He’s getting so big!” I miss the grandmothers eager to give my arms a break from holding him. I miss commiserating over teething and sleepless nights and cradle cap, being with other parents also consumed by caring for their tiny beings.
The beauty of a baby is meant to be shared. When you have a baby, people stop you in the street to peer into your stroller and see. It nourishes most of us to see babies we know as well as babies we don’t know.