Holy Ground

Most nights, my toddler goes to sleep without any problems.  We read a few books, say our prayers, tuck him in with his Santa Bear, his blankies, and his giraffe pillow, and he quickly falls asleep.  But - every so often - he needs a little extra attention.  After tossing and turning for a few minutes, we will hear his cry on the monitor:

"Ma-ma, ma-ma, ma-ma," 

and then - if I don't come immediately:

"Eppie, Eppie, Eppie . . ."  (did I mention that he really loves our dog?).

Against the advice of every sleep training book that I have ever read, I almost always cave quickly and come to the rescue.  My son knows this about me and - most of the time - is ready for my arrival.  I crack open the door to his nursery and he is usually standing in his crib, his arms full with all of his crib friends, his face streaked with tired tears.  

"Up," he will say to me, and I will reach down and grab him and his many comfort items and tote them all to the faded blue couch that has replaced the rocking chair in his room.

Although I don't always relish the interruption in my evening routine, I like this time on the old blue couch with him.  It is one of the only times that my little live wire is content to be held, and I soak it up - knowing it won't last forever.  I stroke his hair, kiss his forehead, and feel our unborn baby kick against him --- always excited to be near his big brother.  I smile, and remember how I snuck into my big sister's room on nights when I couldn't sleep and kept her awake with incessant chatter, talking about anything I could think of so I wouldn't have to be alone.  I always hated falling asleep by myself . . . something my son obviously inherited.

It is in these quiet moments when my son is falling asleep against me that I often hear God speaking the loudest.  I think there is something about the stillness, the quiet in my heart, that allows me to hear what is probably always there.  There have been many times in my life when I have been skeptical about God, let alone the ability of God to speak in any modern day context. But - there is something so deeply personal about those encounters, something so powerful and peaceful and profound, that my heart cannot find a foothold to question their authenticity.

I wish I could share some enlightened revelation about these times, but I have concluded that some things and experiences are a gift --- too mysterious for me to understand, too wonderful for me to know (Job 42:3; Ephesians 5:32; Isaiah 55:8).  That God could make the mundane terrain of my life holy ground . . . what a miracle to behold!