I love watching my children sleep. I find myself doing it almost nightly these days. Sneaking into Josey’s room after darkness has fallen, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest. Her arms wrapped tightly around stuffed animals. And Corabelle, so sweet, tiny fingers gripping crocheted blankets. They rest there, so vulnerable, so trusting with closed eyes, lashes long as the day.
And I am filled with wonder at their existence. I marvel that these amazing creatures once grew inside me and now they sleep on colorful fitted sheets.
And I am filled with hope: Hope for the hard days of mothering two small ones. Hope for growth and change.
Hope for me too. That I can grow, evolve. Morph into something new. I wonder… Does God like to watch me sleep? Does he gaze at my still form and see the potential within? Does he know that tired days and desperate prayers muttered while babies cry are strengthening his daughter? Does he marvel?
The Creator smiles. Renewing and rejoicing over. Breathing hope.