“Love isn’t how you feel, it’s what you do.” – The Wind in the Door Madeleine L’Engle
This morning, I am writing. I am drinking black coffee. I am pondering greater things than myself, but also what I might eat for supper. I am soaking in the warmth of a fire and basking in its quiet sounds.
And I am holding a baby blanket which never got to be wrapped around its intended.
Two years. Two years ago I relinquished the lifeless body of our James. My own body, it seemed, did not want to let him go although he had been gone for a few weeks. Even now, my heart still longs to hold him.
Our family was part of a healthcare sharing ministry during three of my pregnancies. We sent funds to others in the group who had need of them, and when we had need, we received funds. A beautiful part of this sharing was that we were asked to send notes of encouragement to those receiving funds. It was common to receive congratulations upon the news of pregnancy and birth.
One day, after losing our James and moving to Idaho, we received a package from a member of the ministry. Inside was a note of condolences and prayers. Folded neatly beneath the note was a crocheted baby blanket.
A thoughtful woman had felt she would put her own time and energy into making our baby a blanket. She didn’t know us personally, but she knew what it means to wrap a baby in love. She had to have started it before receiving news of our loss. These blankets take time to make. Still, she completed the blanket and sent it. I imagine she knows something of loss; she knew I would need something to hold, and so she gave of herself to me.
This morning, I am holding a baby blanket. I am holding kindness.
I am holding love.