Dear Ruby: Today you are eight months old. Your parents send us pictures and videos of you several times a month. It's abundantly clear that you are a much-loved baby. Your papa sent a photo entitled "Bright Eyes." Your eyes are bright and there's just a hint of a mischievious smile that I suspect will become bigger with time. I hope so. Your arms are chubby and your belly looks full, as you rest against your papa's furry chest. I am grateful you are well loved, and secure. I wish that were true for all children.
You've changed your parents' lives and you've changed ours. Our eyes now see the next generation stretching into the future. My eyes are now the eyes of a grandmother. They see babies struggling to survive in the ravaged places of the world and know that each of them is as innocent and sweet as you. I catch my breath and can't breathe for a few seconds as images of hungry, homeless, and frightened children flit acrosss the screen. I can hardly bear their vulnerability. Today, as you sail forth into the future, I am wondering about how the grandmothers of the world can make a difference. I am thinking we need to find our voice.