by C. Lee Finkle
yet filled with joy.
He sat next to me in church;
such a fine young boy.
We listened as the Pastor spoke of glory to God;
the parish sat and quietly they did nod.
The sweet child smiled up at me and felt my face;
the Pastor continued to talk about Holy Grace.
In a whisper not so silent the boy spoke to me;
his words echoed for all to hear who sat in the sanctuary.
"Nana...your chins feel rubbery!"
strolling the avenues of life, your hand in mine.
Your soul has touched my Spirit with everlasting love;
gently whispering forever in your sweet melodic strains.
Hearts strung together in a great festoon of lives;
blossoming in unison as we spring from here to there.
Will you recognize me in another time and place?
Spirit never goes away,
it just changes its face.
by C. Lee Finkle
“They are gifts from God” I replied, rubbing noses with him “Eskimo” style.
“Was I a gift too?”
“Of course you are!” We squeezed each other for the length of a giggle.
“But Nana, my baby brother is not a gift” he huffed as he folded his arms across his chest. “Maybe we should return him” deep thought was apparent in his sparkling hazel eyes.
“Heavens no!” I laughed. “These gifts are more precious than diamonds or gold.”
“Even him?”
“Oh yes, all babies, Dear One.”
He smiled and kissed my cheek, and I held him tight, reflecting on the years and the babies that had rested on my lap. The little ones who had asked those same questions and hugged me tight.
With my hand I brushed his hair back from his eyes.
The 2-year-old burst into the room, arms flailing, all excited. “Broke!” he yells. “Me broke you car.” Out the door again he zooms, pieces of Hot Wheel trailing behind.
“Nana, if we can't send him back, do you suppose we could maybe just rewrap him for a few hours?”
