Seventh Floor

Its the land of little tiny people, of blinking lights and buzzers, where caregivers with deft hands and experienced eyes and ears watch their charges, attuned by a sense deeper than technology to the vagaries and changes in the very small humans sleeping under blankets, or lights, or only miniature Huggies.  Mommies and daddies come to visit, to rock, to feed, to rejoice over poopy diapers, and to hope.  New babies are most beautiful to those closest to them; in no time at all, the moniters, tubes and tape become invisible and your baby's eyes, tiny hands, ears, chin and nose are absolutely identifiable with some family member.  Thus do we create the ties that bind.

Life is most elemental here and desires are few.  The little boys and girls need to be warm, and full, and be able to take deep breaths on their own.  What should be easy is not always so.  There is rejoicing each time a tiny goal is met by a tiny person. There is ongoing affirmation of our common humanity and a constant reminder of Jesus' words in Matthew: ' Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these my brethren, ye have done it unto me.'  As these little children are, so were we.  We have been as helpless, as hurting; we have struggled against odds and with hope.  We need all the aid, all the prayers, all the loving hands, all the healing, to grow.  The touching, hands on care, sacrifice and dedication for these tiny ones is a breath taking reminder of the immanent love of our Savior.