Sunny Side Up Sept. 6, 2006 �2006, Kathleen Gibson � 2006 AB Photos Tabatha, 5 days young Discover the truth behind the claims "That's only gas," said the Preacher. I'd just returned from spending the day with the grandchildren, and reported that two-week-old Tabatha had smiled at me - twice. I don't blame him for being a skeptic. For years, we've chuckled together behind young parents' backs when they claimed their babies, fresh from the womb, gave deliberate smiles. Shaking our heads, we'd later chuckle, "Everyone believes their babies are super-kids! How funny!" More chuckles, then, doing a bad job of trying not to sound superior, we'd say, "Give 'em time; they'll figure it out: we did." So when our daughter, who seldom exaggerates, told me, "Mom, Tabatha smiles at me all the time," I thought, what, her too? But said, 'That's nice, sweetheart." I believed her not a smidge, till I saw for myself. I'd been telling Tabatha, wide awake on her back on a blanket on the table in front of me, stories. Things like how God had put her together so carefully in her mother's womb, and kept her safe there until it was time for us to meet her. How we'd all been waiting so impatiently, loving her even before we knew her name. Her dark eyes, fixed on my face, pulled out words out like string from a spinning reel. I can't remember everything I told her - probably how pretty the clouds were that day on their canvas of blue, and how good the raspberries in her parent's garden tasted, and how her big brother had learned to put his yellow and blue sandals on the 'shoe family' shelf. While I prattled, I stroked her cheek and smiled. She smiled back. A definite response, not a reflex. Met my eyes, and curved the corners of her mouth. On purpose. Scout's honor. Now I argued the veracity of that smile with the man who's laughed with me all these years at the reports of other infants' early grins. "Honest, they're real smiles, hon. Not gas tickles - I ought to know what those look like. Tabatha's wide awake when she does it. AND she makes eye contact." "Hmm, hmm." Clearly, he wasn't convinced. No matter how much he trusts me to tell the truth, something in him says that my subjectivity makes me an unreliable reporter of fact. I'm blinded, he thinks, by my love for that eight-pound sunbeam. What he needs, I realize, is the same thing that convinced me. Hard evidence - personal experience. It won't be long coming, I think. Soon he'll have spent enough time with our granddaughter that a beam catches him too off guard. He'll go down like a felled oak, and everyone will hear about it. For years I've talked about having a personal relationship with Jesus Christ to people who don't believe. Many respond with skepticism and chuckles. But some, desperate for belief in someone bigger than themselves, check him out. Start reading the Bible, praying, going to his house. And find him waiting. It's why I won't stop talking. Respond Home |
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