I remember the tickle of delight that coursed through my heart when she told me you were being formed, told me I was now an aunt. Her eyes sparkled pure blue, revealing her entire delighted soul.
And you came, and I held you, prayed tears over your little life, watched you grow under the deepening rays of summer sun.
Your frame slowly extends, making room for arms and legs and tummy a little bigger than they were yesterday. Life music touches your soul too: it soothed you as a baby, and delights you now. You love to sing in your high soprano, cooing praise again and again. Praise rings perfected in your innocence.
And so you grow, the never-ending miracle of life. You wanted to measure your tummy and hear the stethoscope’s echo when the midwife came to check Mummy’s new baby bump. You saw the next little one right after she came into our world. You love her, and mother her, without even knowing why.
You bounce and play and sing and cry and dream, and we marvel at the wonder of you. How could it be that one who knows so little would teach us so much? How is it that your simplicity confounds our complexity, and makes sense of all our conundrums? How does it happen that we who are busy and flitting and dizzy in the spinning, decaying world, suddenly feel whole and healed when we nestle your round frame in our arms?
How is it that your unspoiled, untrained smile can melt our hearts?
How is it, little niece, that two years have passed since you came to us; and that now, I cannot imagine life without you?
So I pause, and I worship the God Who formed you perfect in the secret place, and gave you to us.
You are a masterpiece, and your life is a priceless treasure.
I love you, little Hope.