Saturday, October 19, 2013

Celebration 1: Tiny Prayers...

Every night at bedtime, we are creatures of habit: bath, jammies, vitamins, and brushing teeth with daddy; hair, stories, and prayers at eight with mommy.  It all runs like clockwork, right down to the conversations I share with our four-year-old son.  

"So, what do you want to talk to Jesus about tonight?"

"Kitty (the Knuffle Bunny equivalent in our family), you, Daddy, and Grant." 

"Alright, I think I'd like to thank Jesus for our family too, and also for food to eat and a house to keep us warm.  So I have my things and you have your things...would you like to start or finish?"

"No, Mommy, you can do it all.  I don't know how to pray."
(Which pains me because I've tried to model for him that praying is just a conversation, but that's a whole other blog post.)

So I pray.  We hug.  The lights flicker off.  He chases sleep like a teenager chases work. 

"Mommy, I had a bad dream."  (Predictably, one minute later.)

From my bedroom, I troubleshoot: "Tell Jesus about it.  He can take it all away."  

A resigned "Okay" makes its way though the walls to my heart.  

Next, a tiny voice starts a big conversation:  

Dear Jesus, 
I had a bad dream.
Please take it all away.

Decidedly peaceful, his weight shifts, his covers crumple, his breathing slows.  

Tonight, my celebration is that he took the risk -- he talked to Jesus himself and for his purposes.  

And now, he found rest.

Sweet slumber -- 10.19.2013