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    The Wonder of Womanhood

    There is something about a new baby that draws out the truth in us. It’s the frailty of infancy that is disarming, I think. All walls and barriers break down in the presence of a pure and vulnerable newborn. Not more than 24 hours old, Eliza slumbering in her plexiglass cradle, her presence evoking an unexpected tumble of words from a stranger. “My daughter really wants me to have another baby,” the young nurse says. “I wish we could give her one.” More words. More story. Her brown eyes search carefully over my baby as she moves the stethoscope around the tiny chest, listening to the chambers of the heart opening…

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    Empty Buckets

    There is spring and then there is spring in farm country. While nature everywhere is resurrecting in brilliant form, the countryside possesses a particular shine. It seems the farmers have barely scraped their plows through the expectant earth when the green bounds up behind them. Everything is emerald. My Irish eyes like to pretend this happy valley in the middle of Illinois is my Ireland away from Ireland…the place my great grandparents left long ago. How gracious is my God who led me to this little plot of land with a valley that resembles an ancestral homeland. My husband brought home a calf this week. It was an impulse buy…