Every now and then I have the pleasure of lulling her to sleep; our littlest one, child of my child. Her bottom rests on my arm, her tiny bare toes dangling at my hips. My other hand tenderly cradles her head laying on my shoulder and we sway.
My cheek finds the warmth of her head, the silkiness of her fine hair, and I breathe her in. Sometimes I softly hum the songs of Sunday School. Other times I'm purposeful in singing the words of Jesus' love and amazing grace, wanting her, even at her young age, to hear those words spoken; that somehow she'll find security in them as certainly as she knows safety in my embrace.
It doesn't take long before her breathing is deep and audible, taking on the rythmic pattern of one who has found sleep. The grip she had on my arm loosens and her hand gently falls. Still I hold her, not ready to let go of these precious moments that pass too quickly.
Outwardly, I'm the picture of peace, of perfect serenity. Inwardly, I've begun to pray fervently. "Oh God, this dear little one, make her your own. Give her eyes to see and ears to hear; and as she grows, guide her steps, keep her safe. Chase her relentlessly until she surrenders her will to yours. Don't let her be counted among those who are perishing, who view holy intimacy as foolishness. Give her boldness... righteous audacity and wreckless abandon for your glory. And, please... be generous in giving me wisdom with how to be a vessel in accomplishing your purpose in her life; in her brother's too."
I pray and I plead and I thank because, well, "just look how precious she is, Lord." And often I run out of words, I just let him feel my heart - and I wonder if she knows she is cherished.
I stay that way for sometime, cradling - swaying, and I make it a point to remember what it feels like while she's in my arms.
A garden of love grows in a grandmother's heart.
God has given us these times of joy.
Psalm 81:4 TLB