I held a new human Benson yesterday, next in a long line of firsts; another’s already lining up. Holding a new human as an old human is cleansing, purifying your idea of meaning. I like to take their clothes off and look at them, to see them as they will always be, before they cloak themselves, hair over, image up, harden and roughen around the edges trending toward leather and furrow. A new human is as polished as we come, supple and God Hand rubbed. And this one is a Benson, a Benson boy, binding our lines stronger to God and our family to His service. Such a great deal of hope and burden to tie up on the back of a 7 pounder, but he will man up under it—the cross will make the man.
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