We started going to RCIA class before T was born. All through his first year and a little bit past, we would go to class after church. It's hard to learn about religion with a squirmy baby in your arms, and the lady in charge of RCIA, our beloved Sister Brendan, had thought of a solution for this, far before F and I had even realized there might be a problem with the squirming.
Sister Brendan selected Marg as my sponsor.
Marg is a woman that had six children. Six children. Six. Children. It's unfathomable to me, but Marg knows baby stuff. Marg knows babies.
At first, F and I were
slightly concerned about having someone we didn't know helping with our baby, and we were even more concerned when one of the first times Marg was with T, she leaned in and said to him, "Do you need me to change your diaper? Don't worry. I won't stick you with a pin."
F and I gasped. Stick him with a pin? What kind of person was this? Then, we realized that Marg was talking about diaper pins. And we gasped yet again. Could she possibly think that most babies still used cloth diapers?
We looked up and Marg was laughing. We realized then, that Marg knows baby stuff. Marg knows babies. AND Marg has a sense of humor.
As my sponsor, Marg put up with me. But she
really loved T. Every Sunday for that whole time period, Marg rocked and held Big T. She whispered things to him. She moved his little hands about, rearranged him and cradled him in her arms. She even fed him some chocolate at a potluck one day. He stared and stared at her loving face every Sunday for quite some time. But he was just a baby, and babies don't remember.
As with many of our friends, we don't see Marg as often as we would like. It's our fault that we don't get more organized to get out and about.
Last night as I was snuggling with T before bed, we were spelling names of the family members that he's most familiar with. We do this every night.
First, I say, "Spell Mommy." And T says, "No. Spell Jacob!"
So I spell Jacob. Jacob always, always comes first.
Then, I say, "Spell Mommy." And T says, "No. Spell Daddy!" So I spell Daddy.
Then, I say, "Spell Mommy." And T says, "No. Spell Taran!" So I spell Taran.
Then, I say, "Spell Mommy." And T says, "No. Spell Grandma!" So I spell Grandma.
Then, last night, I said, "Spell Mommy." And T said, "No. Spell Marg!"
"What?", I said. "Marg! Marg! Spell Marg!" T said.
So, I spelled Marg.
And it makes me wonder, was the most recent time we visited with Marg memorable enough for him that he would include her in the family? Marg
is an absolute natural with kids. The last time we saw her, which had to have been about a month ago, she let him take all her tupperware out of her cupboard. She even looked genuinely interested when he brought it to her and said something unintelligible about it. Is it this last visit that he was remembering? Last week, out of nowhere, he did say, "Let's go see Marg."
But how could that one visit have been enough for her to get uploaded to the "most familiar family members" list? There are plenty of other times that he has had fun like that with other people.
Or is it something more than the last visit? When T was a tiny infant, being held and rocked and loved by Marg, did that stick in his brain? When his brain was developing the folds and the grey matter that store data and knowledge and emotions, did a pocket form in there for Marg? Will Marg be a permanent fixture, always, in his brain, even when he's much, much older and doesn't tangibly remember her?
Although I didn't think babies really remembered, I now think that the latter is true. The people we meet in our life must form impressions in our brain that we carry with us our whole life long. This must start even when we are little infants. Later, when we more concretely feel what "love" is or what "kindness" is, it must be that we learned these things from
day one from
everyone that we had contact with. Even if we don't remember the who-what-where-when of the contact itself, the concrete memory itself, there must be a shadow of it on our brain that carries the feelings and emotions of that memory across the synapses.
If this is true, and I think it is, then T will always be a little better because of Marg. His grasp of kindness and love will always be better than it would have been, all because Sister Brendan thought to take him out of Mommy's arms, so that Mommy could listen and not be impatient and exasperated with the needs of the baby. She put him in the arms of someone who would be patient and sweet to him, week after week that first year. He will always have a little bit more of a solid grasp of the feelings of love and kindness. More grey matter devoted to love, More grey matter permeated with kindness, because of the shadow of Marg.
