Moments of Grace

This is the icon that Lucy fell asleep holding.

My sister-in-law has a theory about cross toddlers:  When she's having a melt-down, feed her.  Take her into the kitchen, get out a food you know she likes, put the first bite into her mouth, and hand her the second one.  Continue to hand her bites until she can talk to you.  It seems to work.  Lucy seems to be easier to handle in that regard than some of her cousins; I can just ask, "Are you hungry?" and she will stop screaming, say, "Uh-huh," and take her little self into the kitchen for a snack.

I should have known better.  Last night I read a story about a sick baby.  I should not read stories about hurt or sick babies; they make me all weepy and anxious, and interfere with my sleep.

 As I was struggling to get my thoughts under control so I could go to sleep, Linus woke up and wanted to nurse.  I brought him into bed with me, held that little warm (healthy, strong) body close to me, and fed him.  He was asleep when he finished.  I tried to move him into his own bed.  He woke up.  I held him against my chest and walked with him.  And walked.  And walked.  And walked.

Gradually, my emotions calmed.  Linus' eyes began to close.  I began a rosary.  I thanked God for two beautiful, healthy babies.

Oh.

Snuggle that baby until you can talk to me.