In the cold and quiet morning we sit. One awakened by something unknown, the other tending to her cries. I soak in the look on her face barely visible in the light stretching from the hallway to dance upon her nose. She squirms- unsure if from pain or just unrest. We sit gently swaying back and forth in a rhythm meant to soothe.
My heart melts when her eyes look to mine. Swaddled tightly in a warm cocoon, she sighs. These are the moments I will miss. Soon, she will sleep straight through the crisp morning and awake by the light of day. She has before and will again soon, but for tonight we sit and soak in the smell of one another, the creak of little boys moving in bed, the quiet music playing to drown out the sound of her cries.
The blessing are not lost on me though I often forget to acknowledge them in the light of day. When the sound of bickering and necessity drowned out the sound of quiet breath and peaceful sighs. When the day is overtaken by laundry and meals and homework and baths and spilled milk and feisty two-year-old fits. When the “I wants” and “he hit me”s are at the forefront of my mind, I tend to loose the realization that not everyone gets to experience the heaven that I have on this earth. The quiet peace my babies have when wrapped in my arms, the way a kiss can calm the worst of tears.
But at only four hours past midnight when the earth is frozen and the home is warm and the creak of the rocker is the only backdrop to the steady breathing of my babies, I revel in my blessings. I drink deep of the lives I am privileged to raise, the hearts I am given to mold, the babies that will soon be no longer babies.

As the Little One drifts back into peaceful sleep, my legs carry me back to my warm bed. I must remember these moments in the light of day, I whisper softly.

Thank you Father for giving me my hearts desire. Let me never let my tending to the gifts overtake my thankfulness to the giver.

Behold, children are a gift of the Lord, The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, So are the children of one’s youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them; They will not be ashamed When they speak with their enemies in the gate. (Psalms 127:3-5 NASB)