Two Bundles of Boys to Love

These are the two loves of my life.

My heart goes pitter-patter whenever I think about either of them.

Two boys.
Two brothers.
Two bundles of boys to love.
And do I ever.

I think it’s only natural when a new baby is born for our thoughts to turn to the frailty of life (both the beginnings and the endings as well as everything in between.)

It’s just what we do when we look closely at a brand new life…we stop everything else and take time to consider the preciousness of this little person’s entry into the world.

Then we start wondering what he will be like in a few weeks? months? years? and before we know it, we’ve imagined a whole life full of experiences for him which is kind of fun, kind of scary.

Beyond all the day-dreaming about what this small person will be like, frequently we consider what the world will be like and find it hard to imagine this overwhelming place getting much more volatile.

But, as I was reminded this past week after I watched a historical film on people living through the Holocaust, no matter what was happening outside their doors, people continued to love and support each other through it all. Even when there wasn’t enough to eat, even when they were freezing cold, even when they didn’t know if they’d survive the day, people kept on loving their children, their families, their friends.

If you pay close attention to those who fared the best through the worst of times…it was always those individuals who kept on giving what little they had to those in need around them.

Love — in due time and in all its forms always prevails. Always.


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