Jesus, a 10 month old baby, and a truth lasso


My left arm feels heavy; the weight of the Pastor’s words, they echo in my mind as I cradle the wet mouthed 10 month old. We look out the glass door, “Is your heart changing?” His bare feet press against the glass, “Are you growing into his image?” His hand grasps hold of my hair, “Am I in the faith?” My hand rests on his belly as he leans his head against the cold, clear panel, “Am I really a believer?” We crane our heads to the left and watch the kids play, “set the world on fire with the kingdom of God.” I lean hard to my right hip, “cling to Jesus and as you walk out of that room this morning don’t ever let him go,” his left foot pushes against the glass and we both just continue to stare. So still, so cradled, so obliviously yet obviously loved.


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