How is it possible that five pounds can make such an impact?

Olympia Wynn Smith has come. It feels odd to say that when she was most definitely already in our midst two months ago, or five, yet we could not see each other. She was only a few inches away, yet none of us could feel her incredibly soft skin, or watch her eyes flutter open. Olympia did not have to work for her food, if breastfeeding can be considered work, nor did she need blankets to shield her from the drafts. But my daughter welcomes such small chances to make her daughter comfortable. 

I posted a photo of her on social media and in a few hours there erupted three hundred responses of joy. Olympia's uncles and great grandmother. Her mother's roommates from college. My friends from California, and cousins. Women who themselves are new parents, or grandmothers, as well as women who have enjoyed different blessings... but not this one. All of them send balloons of good wishes, piled on a baby who weighs less than a watermelon. 

Olympia has no idea. She does not feel any obligation to respond. Neither do the hundreds of benefactors expect such indications of worthiness. Their outpouring of welcome is not dependent on anything so illusory as deserving.

What would happen if any of the grown ups who set their love sailing toward a sleeping girl in Philly could see the invisible affection focused on themselves from the myriad angels all around? Surely Olympia is unaware, so it seems fitting that we are too. Except that sometimes the veil is lifted just a tad. 

Recently a woman who was on a difficult errand found unexpected kindness from a dozen people she had never met. They helped her, respected her, waited patiently for her, brought her tissues and slashed the final bill. 

What miracles could be unleashed if we opened our eyes just enough to see that we too are incredibly, and unabashedly adored?