Saint Dominic -- Jennie

"Who do you hold in your arms?" Father Anthony asked my husband eleven years ago in the vestibule of Our Lady of the Mountain during our son's baptism. "What will he be?"

"Whatever he wants to be," Dave answered, pulling the white gown over Dominic's baby feet.

"He could be a great artist," Father Anthony said. "Or a saint. You could be holding a Nobel Prize winner."

This was big. Having our first baby was tough enough. We had never thought about his potential, his impact on the universe.

At only nine months old, Dominic was already a vessel.

Here we were, in church again, less than two weeks after my mom's funeral.

"There is great grief in this family," Father Anthony said. "Let this child heal you."

He has.

I can't tell you the sorrow that melts when this boy puts his arms around me. He has hands like his dad's--large and capable--and shoulders that invite the world to rest there, as his brother and sister, and his uncles and grandpas often do.

"Do you realize the significance of his name?" Father Anthony had asked during the pre-baptismal meeting. "Saint Dominic: handsome and compassionate. An ordinary boy, with extraordinary love."

Eleven years later, this is so true. Our Dominic is a gentle spirit who stands up for the mistreated. During his first grade year, the classroom assistant cried while telling me about Dominic pairing up with his autistic classmate and cheering him on in P.E.

Our hero of virtue is in fifth grade now, and we hear these kinds of stories about him every week.

He is a friend to all, a leader.

There's a lot of pressure on this young man, most of which he puts upon himself.

He takes out the garbage, ties his little brother's shoes, and starts the car every morning--without being asked.

Last month, when I was behind on itemizing our business taxes, I considered having Dominic do it. Although he'd be happy to, I managed to remember that he isn't even in middle school yet. But really, he would've helped out--no complaints.

How did his daddy and I get such a miracle?

We are asked often.

There's a lot of his daddy in him: discipline, a good heart, the will to do what's right. But he is himself, too: a fanatic Lego builder, an electric guitarist, a bike jumper.

What will he be? We still don't know.

But this is for sure: Dominic, who has slept on the floor by his little sister since her bout with epilepsy two months ago, who slipped an extra dollar under his little brother's tooth fairy pillow last night, who asks me how my writing's going, this boy is a gift from God.