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tiny finger, big truths

Sometimes I crawl into bed after the girls are lost in dreams carried off by pillows and quilts that they kicked off no matter how cold it is in the house.  I watch the rise and fall of little bodies that are finally  quiet after all day of nonstop.  And sometimes I lay there and pray protection, blessing, and love over them.  I'll slide down the pink comforter now a messy ball of sheets and covers and tip toe out.
I always try to morning pray.  The day just seems better that way. Rose tinges the still dusky sky and I sneak into their room and kneel at their bed or touch their feet and pray for God to help me today speak good words to them, to be patient, and to love them in the way that God loves them, to love them in the way that they need and will be received by them.  Of course stealthiness is key, I am not trying to wake anyone up. Shhhh.....
After I had my third baby I would find myself whispering words of love in her tiny ears as she drifted off to sleep, "Moriah, God loves you.  Jesus loves you Moriah."  Perhaps she didn't understand, but perhaps her little heart did.  Even babies know love even if they can't form the words on their tongue.  I wanted those words to be the last thing she heard as she closed out her baby day. Maybe if i said them often enough, daily - she'd always know them to be true.  They would be a part of her.  
A few nights ago I was up with my little night owl deep in the hours of night.  We were all up due to a special occasion, and bedtime was at a whole new time.  However as her honey eyes shut and I held her hand I remembered and thought that I would dare to say those words again to her, "Moriah, God loves you. He does."
She had her eyes already closed over in sleep, but they quickly fluttered open and widened.  She pointed to the blackened ceiling with tiny - almost two year old fingers - and said, "Gah".  That is her pronunciation of God.  She exclamation pointed the darkened ceiling again with "Gah!" and smiled, then she cuddled closer to me and quickly went to sleep peacefully, despite her enthusiastic exclamations.
Those tiny still - baby fingers traced big truths in the darkened room, pointing to the God she somehow knows beyond these four walls up past the glittering inky sky.  I know she can feel it now - even now at one year, she is loved.  She knows its true despite being able to voice it.
Like a cover placed gently over her before she sleeps, i want those three words to warm her and make her rest easy...sleep like the baby she is.
And really there is no better bed time story or story for that matter.  It may have to be boiled down for her, but somehow she understood it..."God loves you"...Perhaps I would always sleep better if I went to bed with those words on my mind.  I think i could close my eyes and drift off peacefully when I decide to point to the sky, smile, and agree with those three words, know them, rejoice over them...
Those three words form the sweetest dreams imaginable...

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Morning

Five Minute Fridays
Morning

Morning seems sacred to me.  Having nocturnal children kind of robs me of the mornings I like to enjoy in silence and quiet thought.
For years I would get up at least two hours before anyone so I could just be by myself and be quiet.
My parents are early morning people that like to eat full breakfasts and watch the sunrise on the porch. There's something exciting about watching the day open its' eye lids with the first glints of sun playing on the horizon edge.  Pale blues and periwinkles rouse us out of pitch black and many times morning rises in strength with extravagant colors.  It signals something new.  A new twenty four hours.  A new chance. Kind of like a new little slice of life.  We are mesmerized at first at the idea of new.  It's beautiful, holy, and hopeful.
Morning breaks the night.
I love that Cat Steven's hymn Morning has Broken.  I've always thought the words were so beautiful.
Especially the last phrase, "God&…