Three weeks ago today, Grace arrived in a tiny body with beating heart and robust lungs.

In the midst of this COVID crisis, while sheltering in place, our first grandchild decided to join our family. Because of precautions, we could not join the happy family and wish them well with hugs and kisses. Instead, we met our grandson over Zoom and marveled at the technology that allowed us to do so. There was, however, far more marveling over the tiny little body with his mother’s lovely jet black hair; flailing arms and legs; and a tiny, wrinkled face that reminded me of his father on the day he was born. Such is the picture of grace; the sound of grace; the feel – even from a distance – of nothing but pure grace.

We reverently stand in awe of this new little life that burst into our family and our world during this period of such fear, suffering, and loss. Love is stronger than death, and grace abounds whether we want it to or not. How could there be anything more grace-filled?

Grace flutters from our cherub in tiny, squeaky, bird-like cries, traveling over a 14 mile distance to our phones, and never fails to send our hearts into a spin, filled with uncontrollable gratitude. We are in love all over again. Filled with that love, we are grateful for the love of his parents who saw fit to bring him into the world and into our lives.