Back in the mid seventies I began college, with only a loose idea of where I was headed. My mother was sideswiped by another manic episode, and my father called uncle. He needed help, so I left campus to go home and support him. When she was stabilized, I was unsure how to reclaim my life. A woman invited me to live in her home as a nanny when her last baby was born. Well, less of a nanny who actually educated her children and more of a Mary Poppins who took the kids on adventures. I made costumes, and quilts for their beds. Not yet a bona fide baby person, when she offered to let me hold her newborn. I declined, which astonishes me now. 

 

But it was a casual comment she made about living in her basement that changed the trajectory of my life. 

 

"Don't come upstairs on Tuesday evenings, We have marriage group that night and want privacy."

 

I had no response, nor opinion, but the baby notion that there was such a thing as a marriage group was born. When John and I were married four years later, it emerged as a possibility, and we started one. 

 

On February 8th there will be a conference in my hometown for giving attention to relationships. People will have the opportunity to hear ideas, and try adventures like throwing pots and making Scandinavian hearts. Plus, there will be a few babies whose mothers might be so generous as to let you hold. 

 

But the part that moves me is that the infant, the one I did not accept an invitation to snuggle, signed up with his wife to come.