I’m guilty of letting the exhaustion get to me as the sun sets. The children struggle to settle down in their warm beds, as I rock the baby to sleep. I smell the baby’s hair, and keep the scent in my memory box in my mind. The one I pull out when they start school, and beg to walk alone to class. Just one more kiss Momma, I’m big now.
Kiss after kiss they settle down. They are different little humans , laying in their beds. Fully attentive to your every word as you stroke their hair. So very quiet, they listen to your songs and prayers. Well wishes for their sleep and hopes of whats to come in their lives. There’s a special time in the night with our children, where we both become vulnerable. Both ready to close our eyes and dream, but yet so eager to share what is really on our hearts. What’s really deep in our souls to share. Quietly, a whisper comes forth , so raw and intimate our thoughts become, as we bond as Mother and child. Let stress of the day fall away, and it’s only love that speaks.
Tonight, tucking our middle child in to bed , she begged for me to snuggle her after her sister fell asleep in my arms. Doing the same for her as a baby, I knew she missed that sweet time together. Whether she could remember it our not, her very soul longed to be cuddled. Rocked, and loved. I crawled in her bed, and put my arm under her pillow, only to find something blocking my arm. I sat up and turned her small lamp on beside her bed.
” Rhema, what’s under your pillow?
” Oh that’s my special bible.”
A smile came upon my face like none before. There was a new joy that was birthed as I looked at her eyes gazing on the bible underneath her pillow. Her safe place from all the world. Her bed, her home… where she felt safe.
” I leave it there so I can always be close to Jesus, and all my Angels that I love. Sometimes I dream about them. I want to.”
The bible she received on the day of her dedication to Christ.
If I hadn’t laid with her that night, I wouldn’t have had that intimate glimpse into the tiny woman that she is, even now at age three. Our children are powerful, mighty vessels of Christ, and we are to listen. Instruct, love and nurture, but listen as well. I often take for granite what our children can teach us, I’m quick to hush them up, and go about my night. My alone time, my quiet. But often there are lessons to be learned in the quiet of bedtime.
There’s much to be learned about our children in the dark of the night. When all is still, and sound. As are they. They will express their inner most thoughts and feelings, if only we will give a listening ear.
