What is it in a mother’s love that calms the inconsolable? A tender touch, sweet nothings whispered, silent smiles, nose in cheek nuzzles? The tears dry up, the boo-boo’s kissed, the nose is wiped, a heart is content. Perhaps it is that tired smile from nights of interrupted slumber, or the piercing eyes that see through the chocolate-smudged guilty fingers, or the hearty laugh that fills the house after the 17th knock-knock joke. Secure, sacred, with just the right shape for a three-year old to curl up into, she opens herself to life and God takes it from there.