Out of the corner of my eye I saw a hunched old man walking slowly down the aisle, in that deliberate shuffling gait of the elderly. I turned, smiling, to watch this cute old man arrive at his pew, expecting to be filled with the feeling I always get when I watch the elderly living their lives--smiling, happy, persisting, doing good things. It's a feeling of respect and love and awe and some sadness, with a feeling of fate--I will soon be past my prime and I'll be wondering where the time went.
Instead, though, when I turned, the old man morphed into a young man in the peak of life. His hunch and slow gait were still there, but he was bent not from age, but so his one-year-old daughter could grasp his hand as he helped her walk down the aisle. Momentarily they arrived at the pew where the young mother was waiting. She turned and saw her daughter and her face lit up with joy, with a smile that only a mother has for her child. I saw her speak softly to her daughter, "Come here, my baby." The little girl smiled with her whole body and arrived happily in her mother's arms.
... Sometimes I forget, with my three children who are often screaming and running around like animals as we enter church and I'm frazzled from a stressful morning of getting the children ready for church by myself--AGAIN. ... I forget that this is how it all started. I can remember back then feeling pure bliss: me, my beautiful baby girl, and my doting and adoring husband.
There is still bliss. Sometimes I just have to dig through the stress and frustration to find it. And then I remember that this is what it's all about.
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