"Think of a child asleep in his mother's arms: the abandon with which he gives himself to sleep can only be because he has complete trust in the arms that hold him. He is not lying asleep on that heart because he is worn out with anxiety. He is asleep there because it is a delight to him to be asleep there. The mother rests, too. She rests in his rest. Her mind and her body rest in him. His head fits into the crook of her curved arm. Their warmth is mingled like the warmth of two softly burning flames. She rocks to and fro, and her rocking is unconsciously timed by his breathing. Rest is a communion of love between them. It is a culmination of content: on the child's part, utter trust in his mother; on the mother's part, sheer joy in the power of her love to sustain his life.
Such as this was the rest of God in the beginning of time, when he had created the world: And on the seventh day God ended his work which he had made; and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had done.
God could not need rest. He could not be tired by creating the world. His rest was the infinite peace of infinite love. ~ Caryll Houselander"
It seems to have been written for me. I lay in bed in the morning, tired from a long night of interrupted sleep. Little Buddy has been up many times last night, fractious and complaining because of the coming arrival of his "pearly whites", which have yet to make an appearance. I lost track of the number of times I woke to his rustling and tiny moans. And yet, in spite of the frustration and exhaustion, I truly am completely at peace, as the quote says. Nestled in my arms, Little Buddy's chest rises and falls in silent rest. His feathery eyelashes brush his cherub cheeks, and I marvel at his being. He is part of me. A perfect example of the beautiful gift of creation God has allowed us to share in. Love itself made tangible and touchable, in flesh and blood vessels, bones and muscles. I gently stroke his downy hair and brush my lips against his forehead. His little self fills up a baby-shaped hole in my heart I didn't know existed. He is so fragile and little, so reliant on me for his every need. And yet, I realize now how oblivious I was to how much I needed him. God knew. He always knows. He knew I needed this little miracle to draw me closer to Him, closer to My Love, closer to family and friends. Miracle, I call him, for he really is exactly that. A miracle straight from heaven to awaken my heart, to draw my wandering eyes outward and upward, to give me the strength to try again. Thank goodness my Shepherd is in the business of miracles.
We rest together, warm and snuggly amongst the blankets, until his little eyes blink open. A wide smile breaks across his face like the sunrise, calling into being a reflection of his joy on my own face. Little Buddy gurgles and coos, his happiness complete simply in being with me. How amazing to know that my mere presence makes him so happy, that a smile from me is his whole desire in this moment. And it calls to my mind how much I need this perfect peace, perfect trust in my Shepherd, how much I need to rest in his arms the way Little Buddy rests in mine, to find my whole happiness simply in being in his presence. This is what I will strive for, and perhaps never fully achieve, all my life. And yet here is my little son, who will rely on me to teach him to tie his shoes and fold his hands in prayer, already an expert in peace and trust, teaching me what it looks like to be as a little child and enter the kingdom of heaven.
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