My wife and I made the trip to Milwaukee to see our new grandson. We found him fine in every sense of the word. We found his parents somewhat shaky and occasionally not so fine.

However, all three improved with each day we were there. We saw it happen right before our eyes. Rosemary assisted them with the new night shifts that have been suddenly thrust into their schedules. I went back to the hotel each night and enjoyed the rest and being sidelined from my usual routine.  My wife would make me admit this, somewhat to my chagrin, every time I returned each morning to the little apartment.

My daytime duties were mainly running errands and washing clothes. There were many clothes to wash, little tiny socks and one piece suits that Mary and Phil will soon enough discover stuck somewhere in a clothes basket or drawer and marvel that once Eli was small enough to fit into them.

Among the things that I had forgotten about newborns is about how everything revolves around the infant’s input and output, about how every little poop is cause for a small celebration. Life gets reduced to its basics when a new one comes along.

And I thought of the irony. Here’s a brand new little human born through no choice of his own into this condemned world, the old creation where death reigns.

Yet born to death is the only avenue provided leading to rebirth into life. And though we can arrive at no logical reason for it being that way, therein lies our Hope. This new little family has also been the focus of much prayer during recent days. There has been thanksgiving, supplication, confessions of anxiety and worry. Life also gets enhanced to spiritual basics when a new one comes along.

Eli’s other set of grandparents, Lowell and Linda Taylor, have also made the inspection trip and found their new grandson quite satisfactory. They arrived in Milwaukee the day after he was born and stayed most of a week. It was Lowell from whom I received my first, first-hand account.

“He’s cute,” the new granddad said — or something to that effect. “I mean, I know I’m supposed to say that, but he’s really cute,” said Lowell, whose observations are more often characterized by understatement.

Our short conversation meandered just a bit before Lowell again observed, “He’s a good-looking kid.” Then Lowell looked at me and I looked at him and he offered, reassuringly: “He doesn’t look like either one of us!”