sacred

My earliest memories of Mom's hands are of her with each new baby. I was 2 and a half when Jim was born, then 4 more boys and then Diane when I was 17. She began with a bath, usually in the sink. Small, soft wash cloth going over the eyes, ears, nose, under the chin, then the back, bottom, toes. After some snuggling in a towel the baby was laid on another towel, covered with the first, to keep them warm and comfortable. The lotion was the most beautiful part. After warming it in her palms, she spread it gently but very firmly over the back, pushing folds of loose skin as she went, like a professional massage therapist. Turned on the baby's back she covered their tummy, under the neck, between the folds in their legs and arms. Next came the t-shirt (no onsies then), cloth diaper fastened firmly with large safety pins with pink or blue heads. The plastic pants were the only stiff part of the ritual. Next the sleeper and lastly the receiving blanket (why is it called that?) done just a certain way. I remember Mom teaching me just how to do it so the top flap would cover the top of the head. Then she sat with that yummy-baby-smelling, bundle of joy held up over her shoulder, rocking him/her until the blessed child was asleep. I loved to watch this ritual, never got tired of it, in fact. I didn't name it at the time but now I see it was just as holy as any ordinance or sacrament in any church. A sacrament is a "means of divine grace." And in the book, "The Sacraments" by Peter A. Judd he says, "The sacraments are vehicles of God's action and revelation in the lives of human beings." Watching the gentle, loving ritual Mom performed each day with her children was a holy sacrament. I have no doubt God was involved.