Saturday, November 17, 2012

The Lullaby of Thanksgiving

The three year-old tucks water bottle and monkeys safely under fleecy arms and we march.

It is bedtime, there are songs to be sung, and she has a list.

With imaginary lines we cross off Row-Row-Row-Your-Boat, Jesus Loves Me, Hey-Diddle-Diddle, and Good Night Ladies.

This youngest daughter, she always has a song.

When that alarming things-have-gotten-too-quiet quiet sneaks up on me, and I realize that she has wandered, her music is the first thing that I have come to listen for. Her song is how I know where to find her.

This night, after prayers, I kiss still-round velvety cheeks and brush back lengths of hair. I remind her that I love her and I begin to move down the hall.

She calls me back.

It is dark.
She is scared.
Can we crack the door and turn on the light?
One more song? A lullaby?

How could I withhold comfort from my child when she asks?
We sing together and she is stilled.

In the middle of the night I'm the one that wakes, tossing.

The darkness of doubt has pushed away the light and a million unwelcome what-ifs come rushing.

Will there be enough?
Am I doing enough?

It almost overtakes me.

But then I remember my list, and I begin to push back with the imaginary lines; counting off goodness and faithfulness after faithfulness.

'Return to your rest, O my soul: for the Lord has dealt bountifully with thee.' Psalm 116:7

Just one more song, and it cracks open the door.

He has not withheld his comfort from me.

I sing thanksgiving like a lullaby and am stilled.

This post is linked up with Inspred By Family Magazine as part of their 21 Days of Contagious Gratitude Series.

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