Sweet sleeping little one
Is the day already done?
Though some of the minutes seemed rather long,
The hours really and truly sped along
Now here I am, watching you sleep
Until out of your room I will creep
Quietly, downstairs, to sit and wonder
Did I act wisely, or make a blunder?
For your sweet frame, which finally does rest
Certainly did put my patience to the test
I wanted your bedtime to be peaceful and quiet
Instead, you put up a fuss and made quite a riot
Why couldn’t you give in? Why the struggle?
How were you not calmed by our long, cozy snuggle?
So overtired were you, for too many days
You just couldn’t stay in control of all of your ways
You are only three, after all, so little, still learning
And yet the blood within me was burning
I freely admit, I was mad and upset
And I couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t just let
Yourself calm down, and rest, and close your eyes…
But am I really that quick to realize
When it’s time for me to let others make my load light?
Or do I resist, and complain, and put up a fight?
As a mother, I’m always trying to find that place
Between being firm and lavishing grace
Both need to be present, both need to be strong
So I’m constantly asking God to help me along
For so often I feel like I make one mistake after another
And that shortcomings and failures mount up in this mother
Yet every time we have a struggle like this
You still hug me, still give me a kiss
What kind of love is this, dear little one?
You forgive and forget, when all is said and done
I almost want to wake you, to set things right, now
But deep slumber for you, I must and will allow
Now I pray that tomorrow brings a fresh start
And that tonight’s sleep renews both of our hearts.
There have been many bedtimes for both of my children that have felt more like raging storms than gently rocking waves. Tonight was one of the stormy ones. Both Little A and I were overtired. It’s amazing how having Mommy get sick for a few days really throws everyone off a bit.
I could see the exhaustion in her face, and hear it in her cries…yet she wouldn’t just let herself give in and rest. As frustrating as it was to watch–and try to correct–I realized I’m not the best example for her to follow.
How many times has help been given to me, and I’ve resisted, or responded with hurt pride, indignance, or grumbling? How many times have I passed up a moment to pray, or to read an encouraging word, only to act with impatience a moment later?
Nights like this one humble me, renew my patience, and grow my love, as I see so much of my fallen self in my children’s hearts. May each of us remember that a life of abundant love and grace is there for us, if only we will open our hearts to receive it, from Jesus himself.