I’ve not cried too much this summer, but this afternoon found me swayed by hesitant tears, wondering if I could bear, or wanted to bear, last goodbyes at the baby home. As it turned-out, my final hours were far less dramatic, or climatic, than I might’ve imagined. Mama Lucy and I shared some special time together, and then Mama Claire was running late, which left me alone with the babies between shifts. Everyone was quite antsy for dinner, but still kind enough to humor my necessary discourse.

I explained how much I loved them, and how proud I was of who they were becoming. I thanked them for their gentle spirits, and for their willingness to teach and be taught. I petitioned for the health of their hearts, minds, souls and strength and for an increased openness to God’s unfailing love. I prayed for their families and the generations they would influence. And I promised to stand as their ambassadors from this day forward. My little angels were speechless. All ten of them offered undivided attention, until at some point Ryan screamed and the room gained a stench saying someone’s bowels had lost control. I was touched. And kindly prompted toward the end of my talk. Things went a bit downhill from there, which honestly made a night that could’ve been surreal far less so. Ten cranky babies have an exceptional way of ruining a sensuous moment.

The remainder of the evening proceeded as normal, with bottles, baths, diapers and PJ’s, and then off to cribs for a final kiss. These moments marked a delicate mix, not unlike every preceding nights spent with this adieu. I was overwhelmed by the gift of handling life for this day, but more overwhelmed by the gift of handing it back to that which it came. To love in one’s presence, and yet to release to one’s greater Presence, must be the richest miracle I have ever held, or imparted.

May you rest in peace, child. May you rest in Peace.