What She’s Taught Them

Sweet #7 is warm and snuggly and wonderful to hold and cuddle.  Her siblings fight with each other for the chance to let her curl up in their arms and nap.  She has no idea who they are.

She looks long and hard at each face with a definite “Who the heck are you?” look snarling across her delicate features.  I’m not sure if she has bad eyesight or a short attention span (Squirrel!), but she can’t seem to place any of us.  I’m not exempt from her puzzled scrutiny.  Sure she recognizes parts of me instantly, but she looks at my face and seems to think “You look awfully familiar to me…..I just can’t quite remember where I’ve seen you before….Remind me, what was your name again?”

It’s amazing that a person living in a house populated by strangers can trust us so completely.  If she can’t quite recall our faces, she at least knows that nothing bad has ever happened to her here, and there seems to be a surplus of love.  This is the lesson she brought with her, all tied up in a sweet pink bow.  She is teaching my other children (and her parents, too) what it means to love someone completely and selflessly and to expect nothing in return.

She hasn’t yet developed the ability to truly love anyone back, but they certainly adore her.  They don’t get a smile in return.  There are no kind words, no hugs or kisses.  In fact, she’s not always even nice.  A warm embrace is just as likely to be greeted with her loudly filling her diaper or screaming for no particular reason as it is to be met with a contented and sighing baby.  They don’t seem to care.  She’s showing them that loving someone means accepting the disgusting and unpleasant parts, too.  They know that she won’t even be grateful for their care, but they wipe her spit-up covered chin anyway. They eagerly fend off the grabbing arms of younger brothers because “I just got a chance to hold her…..”

Last night, my 10 year old stroked his sister’s hair and sighed, “I just love her so much, Mom.  Do you think she loves me?”

I brushed his hair aside and, kissing his forehead, replied, “not yet, sweetheart, but give her time.”

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then told me, “That’s okay.  I’ll wait.  I’ll wait forever.”  And his mother smiled.

They are learning about perfect love, the kind of love God has for them. She is their specially chosen gift and their perfect Catechism lesson just in time for Christmas….and God was clever enough to wrap it all up in such a cute package that they not only willingly learn this lesson, they fight for the chance .