May Those Arms Be Mine...

Last year a baby I had never met spent his first Christmas in the ICU.  Doctors worked to get him breathing on his own, believing he would be blind and mute for the rest of his life.

This Christmas he is safe.  He is healthy.  He is happy.  He is loved.  When he is sad, his face turns to mine. When he needs love, his arms reach for me.  When he is scared, his voice cries for me.

And I wonder…

What will his next Christmas be?

Whose arms will he reach for?

Whose voice will calm him?

Will he know love?

And I thank God for this time.  This baby.  This Christmas.  May it not be a happy oasis in a desert of his life.  Rather, may it be the standard. 

                Always arms to hold him. 

                                    Always a voice to calm him.

                                                        And may those arms --that voice-- be mine.