She turns her head to the stroller,
He smells so good! What IS that?
My husband and I look at each other like,
Where do we begin?
Holy oil? chrism? he got baptized today?
But really what we want to say is
You’re smelling grace.
And grace doesn’t have much to say or do
But eat and sleep, and eat and sleep.
You might wonder why we dote on grace
Why his brother showers him with kisses and can’t keep his hands off him
Especially since the chrism.
Why we want to stare at grace indefinitely when
Grace is often slow and strange and sleepy
Why we want to get in his face and breathe in deep,
Breathe in deep, intoxicated,
By this thing that doesn’t give much of anything back-
Much of anything, that is,
except our whole hearts
changed and healed and mended…
She walks away.
Turning back for double takes,
Whispers to the other waitresses to go and see
Go and smell-
Go, gaze down at that tiny face,
Face reflecting the face of God,
and be transformed.