They Plopped the Baby

They Plopped the Baby

Theology in the Trenches

By Kathleen Kjolhaug

 

I skirted into place just moments after the church service had begun. Sitting back in the wooden pew was the natural progression of things when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, someone behind me plopped a baby right into my lap!

It wasn’t that a baby hasn’t been plopped in my lap before. After all, I’m a grandma and it wasn’t my first rodeo in this arena. Thing is though, I normally see it coming when a babe is headed in my direction. Not this time.

Swooping in from behind were arms lifting high the child and down with a plop the little one came—blanket and all. Off dashed the caretaker rather quickly, and as I glanced back, I could see the urgency in their steps as they took yet another child off who needed caring for. And the thing is—the little babe stared at me (never having seen me before) just as intently as I was staring at the babe.

Now before you get all riled up thinking this was a complete stranger who chose to hand off their precious goods to someone unbeknownst to them—that was not the case. You see, I knew the adult in this situation and the adult knew me. The hand off was like a quarterback sneak—you just didn’t see it coming. However, the delightful wonderment that the child was not fazed in the least to be handed off and placed in my care was just that—delightful!

Perhaps it was the gentle cooing I immediately began that stabilized the infant child. Perhaps it was this grandma’s touch that seemed to know how things work in such a time as this—signaling they were in good hands.  Or, perhaps the child had been gifted an extra measure of grace to put up with the random act of kindness I’d been gifted this early morn.

I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that the one who passed the babe on over, returned to gather the goods once they were done doing what they needed to with their other child. Nope. They didn’t return for some time and all the while, I held the babe and the babe held me. And when the baby fussed, on over my shoulder came the familiar arm—handing me a bottle, trusting I would know what to do with it in short order.

Soon, my friend beside me was just as intrigued and with eyes lit, the two faced off. Tiny arms reached out as my friend lifted and I plopped the babe into her lap. And the baby sat. And the baby cuddled. And the baby slept—all the way through the rest of the service until the family was ready to retrieve the child—the sleeping child—once it was time to depart.

You see, to be held is often all we desire. To be plopped, if you will, into the care of another—to be held every so oft and ever so soft—all safe like. And we are—held that is.

Heb. 10:23 reminds: “Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.” May He find us faithful as He is ever faithful. He offers a safe place to plop anytime as He is already holding that which He created—which is you.  Amen.