His whimpering cries grow louder with each passing second. In frustration I look to the clock knowing he awoke too early. My mind races with all the tasks I hoped to accomplish while he slept. Meanwhile the cries crescendo into wailing. Softly I sneak into his room trying to remain undetected, hoping he will simply fall back to sleep. His balled fists pound the bed and his eyes pop open locking with mine.
Sigh. I’ve been spotted. No turning back now.
Zipping open his tent, I gently pull him out and snuggle him close. His pudgy little fingers grip my sweater holding on for dear life as his tears wet my shoulder. Back and forth, back and forth, we rock. Pat, pat, pat. Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. He quiets down, tear-filled eyes wide open.
I’m tempted to grab my phone, look at my to-do list or check emails. As I reach out my hand I’m reminded of a cross-stitched poem that hung in my grandmother’s house.
Cleaning and scrubbing can wait ’til tomorrow
For babies grow up we’ve learned to our sorrow,
So quiet down cobwebs and dust go to sleep
I’m rocking my baby, and babies don’t keep.
I switch my phone to silent letting the world stop for just a few moments and resume my patting. His little head grows heavy slipping to my chest. His fists soften and begin to fall to his side. Back and forth, back and forth, we rock. Pat, pat, pat. Shhh. Shhh. Shhh. His worries fade. He drifts into sleep, safe and secure in his mother’s arms.
Isn’t it the same with my Father? Put down your worries my daughter. Rest securely in my arms, “As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you.” Isaiah 66:13