Rock-a-Bye

There's not much in the world that can repair or heal a fragile or damaged spirit the way rocking a baby can, is there?

This week was as busy and challenging as all of them have been---even more frenetic, if possible, because I was battling technology, which makes me absolutely insane.  (That is not new in the computer age; I remember feeling deep hatred for the sewing machine back when I still sewed in high school, when Mrs. Barrett's most frequent words to me were, "Rip it out.")  But things reached a fever pitch on Thursday, when a student confessed something to me that was one of the most horrifying things I have heard in my 25+ years in education.  I couldn't react outwardly in that moment, but I remember clearly what went through my mind: "I want to hold Allie and rock her to sleep, right now."  Allie, if you aren't aware, is my baby sister's one-year-old.

That's what I did tonight, after spending most of the afternoon here on the ranch talking to Sheri and playing with Allie, having dinner with my parents and both siblings (since my brother is here from SD for a couple of days), and then giving Allie her bath.  She put on quite a show after bath time, making a circuit of the room giving everyone kisses, which she's usually kind of stingy with----she's kind of fallen in love with Uncle Bo and was probably trying to impress him.  It was obvious that she was also fighting off sleep after a fairly sleepless day today.

Soon enough, we went upstairs with her cup to a book and her blanket.  I thank God she loves books.  She would go through every book on the shelf if we let her.  But we looked at three, and then she played the stick-my-fingers-in-your-ears game she likes and let me sing a little to her (She loves music, too; we started learning "The Rains Came Down" while it stormed outside today).  Then she snuggled down and we rocked and rocked.

I rocked long after she fell asleep.  I always have a hard time putting her down, though; it's hard for me not to stare at her when she sleeps, just as all her cousins before her.  But tonight, I prayed that her life would be as untouched by the grim, brutal ugliness of the world as possible, that we would all be wise in protecting her, that her home would be as safe with her in it as it was when we were growing up here.  I prayed that we would know how to judge all the people and things that would come along to influence her and guide her accordingly.  I prayed that she would always feel as comforted and comfortable as she did at that moment, sleeping trustingly in my arms.

And I feel better.  I can do another week because I held that Allie-shaped bundle of balm, soothing my spirit and my mind, wiping away what went before and planning something more for her life because we all---her parents, sister, grandparents, aunts, uncle, cousins---would do anything to protect her.  In a few years, she'll know that love very distinctly.  For now, she simply exudes it from her baby skin, innocent eyes, ornery grin, and those rambunctious kisses.