Two-thousand and thirteen sleeps. Two-thousand and thirteen dreams. One night sleep (or five small ones from the time you were born to 11 months — we were all very tired together!), two naps for a while and now just one. About two-thirds of those, I got to rock you to sleep, close to my heart. As close as I could get you. That’s where you always want to be. Close to my heart, I have sung you a thousand songs and prayed a thousand prayers. I’ve listened to you breathe — one of the most miraculous sounds I’ve ever taken in with my ears. Thank you, God, for ears to hear. I’ve smelled your little head each day. The perfume of you has changed from the magical sweet smell of a new baby — something totally unexplainable in words — to the still-sweet scent of the bubbly happy Gracie I know today. As I’ve rocked you these last 714 days of your life, I have learned something new over time. I am still learning this. God brings us to that baby blue rocker to teach me to slow down and savor stillness. But, this is a special stillness. It’s not the absence of movement or of life. It’s the absence of me. God fills up the world and our hearts with Him. And that, I am learning, is all we ever need. Be still and know, sweet pea. He is always here.
Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!
I love you, sweet pea. Sweet dreams : )