The Work of Grace
With a last quick peck and a broad grin, he dashes across the field with Stew.
My friend, Alice from nursing school, is in the stands and waves to me. Though I wave back, I’ve no intention of taking a seat with her and her rowdy brood while Julia’s still sleeping. It’s one of the few times I don’t envy her. She and Stew married two years after they met at our wedding and nine months to the day later, delivered their firstborn. They’ve been making babies—at least one per year—every year since, so she’s surrounded by their thirteen children, trying to calm their twin six year-olds with a seven month-old baby held around her six month baby bulge.
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