when you don't know what it is...

his screams ripped at my heart.

my little one who falls asleep so easily,

so quickly.


this evening, he was not so ready,

not so willing...

surrender, i'm sure, felt like betrayal.


and so he sat at his door, mouth to the floor and screamed my name.

i sat on the couch, 10 feet away and tried to block it out.

but i couldn't...

i couldn't ignore something that heartfelt and real.


there is a song that was sung at the end of the service today, 

one that has continued to play in my mind in the crazy moments of this day,

and so i let this room fill with the words and the tune and in between sobs

he began to calm.


i let it play a couple of times and and in the quiet i could hear him whispering some of the words.

and i thought that he was fine.


only the silence needed to be filled with something and he was determined that he would use his voice if there was no music,

and soon, he began to wail again.

i opened his door and stepped into the dark.

gathered him up along with his blankets and sat down in that old, old rocking chair.

i pulled him in close.

he wanted to brush his teeth.

so we did.

and then i began to rock,

and i began to sing

and soon he found my heartbeat and settled in.


and i sang about a silent night as he hiccuped and tried to catch his breath.

i sang of shepherds and angels and the Son of God Who loves pure light.


and soon, his breathing slowed and his hand that gripped my hair so tightly relaxed its grip and he let me lay him down.

he is sleeping now, my little boy with the flaxen hair.

and i think of another mother, 2000 years ago.  

the woman who held the very Son of God in her arms.

i wonder what songs she sung over very God Himself,

the wonder that she must have felt at this honour, this blessing.


the snow fell around us this evening, tiny flakes resting on bare heads...

we stood in a parking lot and looked up into the black,

into the endless swirling of frozen water caught in an intricate dance.


this season, this year more than any other has opened my eyes to the wonder of how He loves.

as the snow fell around us, i thought of the ancient israelites, stopped still on a ground covered with manna.

they asked, what is it?

and they were filled with food that came from His Hand.


and this heart,

this family,

stops still in these moments that find us surrounded by the unexpected ways He gives.

we are tempted to question our worth in light of the beauty of His gifts,

but His answer rings clear into our asking.

and as His blessings fall one by one,

the answer comes soft;

each one is an echo

of His Love...