I crawl back in bed, still stiff from the deep sleep I was pulled out of. My back is warm against my heater Husband as I stare off the side of the bed, listening, for that oh-so-possible stirring. Just as my eyes convince me it is safe to let them rest, the familiar and every-increasing baby grunts reach my ears.
Feet to the floor, looking for house shoes to guard toes against the chill of this November morning.
Back to pacing, bouncing, thinking, praying.
I remember when my mom told me four years ago (before my first daughter was born) to be prepared because "everything you do will be constantly interrupted". The usual sleeping hours are no exception. I can see her gentle, knowing smile. The floors must have well beaten paths from where she walked with each of her nine children. Stories about the hours I kept her pacing float through my foggy mind and I smile. Yes, I love this little one like she loved me. I like sharing this love with her.
The love for your child. A part of you. A part of him. A part of Him.
The soft gray of morning is peaking around my bamboo blinds as I sway, sway, sway. Good morning, Father. This is the day that You have made, I will rejoice and be glad in it.
The stillness, the slow of the passing of minutes encourages me to commune with Him. Okay, I'm awake, and that's not going to change anytime soon. I'm too tired to be frustrated. I am willing to truly listen. He is gentle and leads me in baby steps. What can I learn about You in this situation? Faith like a child. What does that mean? You need Me. What does that look like? Like this.
I look down at her peacefully sleeping face. I know she's only sleeping so well because I'm holding her. It is a need, not simply a want, for an infant to be held. So much of her physical, emotional, and spiritual well being is wrapped around consistent contact. She knows she needs to be held.
I am a spiritual infant. Hold me, Abba. I need You so much.
One little sip of Him a day is not enough. I need to regularly eat and drink. I need to rest in His arms.
His Spirit speaks, " I love to hold you all the time..."
My throat tightens and my vision blurs. I love being with You, too.
Am I even spiritually six weeks of age? Can I focus on Him? Smile back at Him? Am I awake with Him long enough to know the One who holds me? Sometimes.
Can I speak His language yet? Can I walk with Him and attempt to emulate what I see of Him?
I want to grow.
I let Him hug me. He sways, sways, sways.
All Your waves and breakers have swept over me...
After a long while I have Fullness. I finally have Rest.
I smile at my little piece of Him as I leave her to her dreams.
Again I lay down my head on my much missed pillow. My eyes are closed but I know He is still with me. My heart whispers.... thank You. Thank You. I want my life to be more interrupted with You.
I pull up covers to shield the time telling aquarium lights. Peace.
I hear the outer door open. Now the one to our bedroom. I smile before I even hear the "Mmmmmmmama. Good mmmmmmmmmmmorning. I'm hungry! Can you fix me breakfast?"
It's the four year old. It's the alarm clock for which there is no snooze button. It's my wonderful life. Interrupted.