This morning my precious Zoe woke up and wailed. She was scared or upset or something, but she was almost inconsolable until Mom held her and then Dad walked around holding her.
But she was alive. 16 months old. Beautiful and long and opinionated. Eating chicken and vegetable stage 2 baby food and alive. Sweet grace.
Zoe is incompatible with a night of sleep. Incompatible with stage 3 food. Incompatible with tater tots. (I tried. What? I just wanted to see) She's incompatible with being left alone too long.
But she's not incompatible with life. God has given us Zoe for another month, and Zoe has taught me how to win. It's not how hard you hit. It's how you take the hits.
