An Old Irish Blessing

The spirited night air entered through the open window, flew silently through the bedroom, mixed lightly with the blades moving in leisurely circles near the ceiling and sank gently towards the crib before mingling gently with the newborns quiet breath.

Wisps of astral fingers caressed the warm cheek, causing the tiny eyes to flutter and the perfectly formed lips to curl into a graceful smile.

Inside the child’s dreams an old man held her, rocked her, cuddled her and prayed for her:

                    May God give you...
                    For every storm, a rainbow,
                    For every tear, a smile,
                    For every care, a promise,
                    And a blessing in each trial.
                    For every problem life sends,
                    A faithful friend to share,
                    For every sigh, a sweet song,
                    And an answer for each prayer.

Two o’clock feeding brings the mother out of her warm bed. As she cracks the door to take in her newly created daughter’s sleeping form she is startled to see her own grandfather waiting in the rocking chair for her. His Irish eyes are smiling as he speaks his ethereal words, “She’s a beauty she it, just like her mother, and her mother’s mother. She will be well, I’ll see to that my little one.”

As the dream fades from the baby’s slumber the child wakes with a hungry cry. The mother moves to calm her child, an empty chair awaits her and the nursing babe.

Morning light streams through the window, settling upon mother and child contentedly sleeping in the chairs embrace. An early morning visitor knocks on the door. The freshly minted grandmother has come and, as usual, she bears a gift.

“A circuit blew this morning and when I went down to fix it I found this sitting on a nearby shelf. Daddy gave it to me when you were born and I just felt I needed to bring it to you. It seemed like the perfect thing for the baby’s room,” grandmother says. In her hand is an ornate pewter frame which holds an old Irish blessing that her grandfather had always been fond of saying.

“It’s perfect!” the mother says as the baby reaches out a chubby hand to grasp the tiny heart at the top.