I don’t have time for sick kids! I grumble in my
head, thinking of my too-long list of things I will be forced to ignore if he
stays clingy like this all day long.
I have more important things to do than sit on the couch!
Do you, really?
He looks up at me.
And I see him.
I really see him.
He sits on me, fighting his sixth ear infection, and he
pleads with his eyes.
Hold me, mama.
I sit a little longer.
His tears stop, and he snuggles into my soft robe. He
hiccups, then sighs a grateful sigh. He is content.
For a moment, I am content, too.
He cannot pray, not with words. He is too young for that,
I suppose.
And yet if he had the words, what would he pray for?
Pain relief (We still have those drops in the cupboard.)
Medicine (daddy is on his way with that!)
Comfort in the meantime: a body like a soft pillow, and
warm, sympathetic arms.
And God would answer his prayer, by sending him his
mother.
The words were not necessary. God provided before he
asked.
…and in this moment, I am that provision.
Right now, today, I get to be the one who soothes him. I
am a comforting embrace to this little child, MY little child. I get to be
God’s hands of compassion to him, God’s arms around Him in an afternoon nap.
What could be more important?
We sleep.
It is good to be a child.
