I never held a baby until my late twenties…
when I was a chaplain…
in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU).

As not only the youngest child in my immediate family, but the youngest grandchild in my extended family, I never had to hold anyone younger than me during my childhood and adolescence. By the time my older cousins were having children of their own, I lived far enough away that I didn’t see them often. In my work in churches, I was always a youth minister or intern or associate; any responsibilities which might involve holding a baby always fell to other staff members. And so I never held a baby. In fact, this even became a joke when I visited some friends in the hospital after the birth of their first child. When the question came: “Tom, would you like to hold the baby?” I replied, “Well, as a pastor at your church, I feel like I should, but as a single 26-year-old, that thought is terrifying. So thank you, really, but I’m going to pass for now.”

Then I started chaplaincy training, and as one of my first assignments, I was responsible for the NICU.

At first, I must have been the most hands-off chaplain they’d ever had. I walked from crib to crib just looking and praying and hoping I wouldn’t be asked to touch anything. Many of the infants in our charge were small and weak and bristling with tubes and wires. I would pray for their health, but I always kept a safe distance. And then one day, the request came.

Hey Tom, this kid won’t stop crying, and none of us are free to hold him. Do you mind?

I sat down in a rocking chair beside the crib, and a nurse placed the swaddled infant in my arms. She positioned me and the child so his various tubes and wires snaked over my shoulder back to the equipment beside the crib, and then she walked away, leaving a very small, fragile baby in the arms of a completely inexperienced and scared 29-year-old.

He was quiet in my arms aside from a few little gurgles, but as time wore on and I realized I was going to be holding him for quite a while, the infant began to stir a bit. Not knowing what else to do, I started quietly singing the first song which popped into my head: Bob Marley’s Three Little Birds.

Don’t worry about a thing
Cause every little thing is gonna be alright,
Singing, don’t worry about a thing
Cause every little thing is gonna be alright,
Rise up this morning, smiled with the rising sun,
Three little birds by my doorstep
Singing sweet songs of melodies pure and true,
Saying, this is my message to you-ou-ou…

And I repeated those words over and over for the better part of half an hour. Eventually, things settled down in the NICU, and a nurse moved the baby back to his crib. He’ll probably never remember those thirty minutes he spent in my arms, but I’ll never forget them. Years later, when I held my infant niece for the first time, that song floated into my mind again, so I sang it to her. Years after that, I sang it to my own daughter. And even now, I still sing it around the hospital.

It’s a powerful message to send to a young child:
This is a world with many worries, but in this moment, you are safe.
In this moment, we are together, and I will do everything I can to protect you and comfort you.
Feel my warmth as I feel yours.
In this moment, there are no worries.
Every little thing will be alright.

And just maybe, that’s a message the person holding the baby needed to hear too.