“That’s a beautiful name. How old was she?”

“Eight.”

“Eight?” The woman shook her head. “I’m…Was it an accident?”

Abby felt as if she couldn’t breathe. She inhaled deeply, trying to fill her lungs with air and force out the pain. “No…not…not really. A brain disease.”

“That’s so very tragic. You must be heartbroken. I can’t imagine losing a child.”

Abby fell silent. She felt helpless to stop her grief from engulfing her. She looked out the window, but the scenery provided little diversion.

“Oh!” The woman looked at her belly. “There he goes again.”

Abby turned back to the woman, welcoming the distraction of the kicking baby. She felt the grip of grief weaken. “It must be amazing, carrying a baby like that.”

“It is…but you know. You are a mother.”

“No. My daughter was adopted.”

“I see.” She paused. “It seems your daughter chose a wonderful mother.”

Abby looked into the woman’s dark eyes, feeling tears surface in her own. “I hope so.”

The woman slid her hand around on her belly. Abby watched her smile whenever the baby moved.

“To think that he draws his very life from you,” Abby commented. “It seems like one of the few natural things left in—”

She stopped.

Suddenly everything her grandfather had been saying about God made sense, as if the pieces were waiting for her to click into place. This beautiful mother’s very life was constantly flowing into her baby. The baby didn’t have to do anything to get it. It was already his. He possessed her very life. He didn’t have to do anything to activate it. It was already active inside him. Apart from her, he had no life. But being joined to her, he had her life. All he had to do was be at rest and receive that life. Which was the most natural thing in the world.

“Oh my,” Abby said, louder than she intended. A man sitting two rows ahead turned to look at her.

“What is it?” the woman asked, startled.

“I just…Now I understand something my grandfather has been telling me. Something that changes everything. Faith isn’t about striving; it’s about resting.”

The train began to slow. “Baltimore,” the passengers were informed.

Abby sat forward. The train stopped, and the Eritrean woman stood and collected her belongings, then turned to Abby. “Best wishes to you.”

Abby nodded. “God’s blessings on you and your baby.”

The woman stared at her for a moment, then smiled. “Thank you.” She walked down the aisle.

Abby stood and stretched, exhilarated by her spiritual revelation. Using caution not to put much weight on her ankle, she walked the opposite direction toward the nearest bathroom, past a door at the end of the coach. She found the bathroom, reached for the knob, and began to open the door.