Through Elliot's Eyes

Years ago, Jon Secada sang these words of someone he loved: "The light of your eyes still shines, you shine like an angel, a spirit that won't let me go." This past Sunday when I carried five-month-old Elliott Ford down the aisle for her baby dedication, I saw an angels eyes, too.

She was understandably distracted by all the smiles as big as sunrises that lined the aisles. Nothing lights up peoples faces like the eyes of a newborn baby, full of fresh, innocent hope. Every time a little one wiggles its way from the womb into this world, were once again given visible and noisy evidence that God won't give up on his creation.

Elliott couldn't know how tense I was. Carrying eleven and one-half pounds of downy feathers just barely spilling over my massive hands, I worried about every step, not wanting to misstep with someone so fragile. I spend a lot of time tense like that, afraid to take a wrong step, knowing that God has trusted me with fragile and sacred gifts. Maybe that's what made this past Sunday so special. As I was blessing Elliott, my heavenly Father blessed me, through Elliott's eyes.

Just before I released her back to her mother's arms, Elliott looked right at me. Our eyes laser-locked, as though no one else was in the room. I stood there transfixed, our souls communing in unspoken words. Through Elliott's eyes, I saw my Father holding me, blessing me, reminding me that he won't let me go, even when I do misstep. It was a truly spiritual moment.

All week long, Ive thought of Elliott's innocent, loving eyes. In my arms I was holding an angel, like my Father holds me, with eyes that still shine, a Spirit that won't let me go.