Little Lucas Alexander, born July 19th, is our latest grandchild, and our latest joy.
Watching him, I see all over again how very powerless newborns are. He cannot move his arms and legs consciously. He cannot lift his head, although every day he gets a little closer to that goal. He cannot even turn over.
Powerless, but oh so precious.
As if the depth of his powerlessness draws forth an even deeper wellspring of love and tenderness from his mother and his father and those around him.
Yet he has his own dignity, this little one.
When quiet he is so very quiet. Wrapped in his little mummy wrapping of swaddle, tightly bound so his arms and legs can only move within the confines of what simulates the womb he grew up in, he lies on his back. Solemn. Unmoving, his head turned slightly to the right.
And he stares. He stares with a blank unfocused gaze that makes his blue eyes look even deeper and bigger. He stares upwards for long moments at a time. His arms and legs are still, so very still, his face unmoving, as if every scrap of his being is focused on what he is staring at so intently.
Every newborn, it seems, does this. I remember many years ago, when my mother and I were standing over the crib looking at my first newborn. She was lying on her back, like little Lucas, and staring off to her right. So intently, without any movement, completely still. My mother said to me, then, softly, “People used to say that when they stare like that, they are looking at the angels.”
And why not? Perhaps, as Wordsworth suggested in his poem Ode: Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood, “trailing clouds of glory do we come / From God, who is our home.” If that is true, newborns are somehow connected to more than we busy adults can see or understand.
Lucas will eventually learn to use his eyes as we do. He’ll learn to choose where to put his attention and what to think about, in that ever-more-busy brain behind his eyes.
Shannon and Christian, Lucas’s parents, are a lovely example of choosing to put their attention on something good and worthwhile. They are looking, every waking hour, at little Lucas (this tiny powerless one who has taken complete control of their lives). All their attention and every thought is for Lucas’ needs, his development, his protection (and to get a little sleep, when they can). Which is right and proper. And a beautiful thing to see, what they are doing with their time and attention. They are falling in love with their son as he is falling in love with them.
Unlike Lucas and his parents, I have time and freedom to control where I put my eyes, my attention, my focus.
The question I am pondering is, where do I focus my gaze? Where do I choose to place my attention, in this busy world? Am I looking for what I can do to heal, protect and love? Or am I focusing on self-pity, anger and fear? Am I staring at what brings me to hatred and isolation? Or am I looking for goodness, peace, courage?
Am I staring at the angels?