Pseudonyms used to respect privacy.

The chapel was full so I slipped in  behind the Martins. Zelda was busy keeping their 11-month old baby girl, Lilou, busy. A supply of books, Cheerios, pacifier, and blanket were at the ready. It’s a challenge to bring a baby to a worship service, even when members are accustomed to the sounds of children’s voices.

Lilou had a little ponytail with a gray bow on top of her head like Pebbles from the Flinstones. She was so cute in her Sunday best, white tights, and little Mary Jane shoes. Lilou started to fuss and wasn’t happy in mama’s lap, standing up, sitting down, or on the blanket on the floor. So Sam picked her up and left the chapel for a time.

Zelda started to fidget the way mothers do when they suddenly have free hands. She pulled out her colored pencils and a coloring book for adults and began to fill in the intricate design with yellow, teal, and orange. She chose her colors carefully. Soon Sam returned with Lilou asleep in his arms. “What a lucky little girl,” I thought.

After a time, I glanced over and witnessed a painting-worthy sight. Lilou slept in one arm and Sam gently put his arm around his wife. The expression on his face was whatever you might call a male Madonna (in the classic sense). He gazed over his wife’s shoulder as she added colors to a beautiful design while his baby slept in his arms. It seemed that he sat in amazement at what his wife could create while loving what they had created together. It was an unforgettable look that held every bit of love, wonder, and magic that human eyes can comprehend. I won’t soon forget this moment.