Early Morning

by Lisa on February 22, 2012

Still semi-dark in our room, the morning light is just beginning to peek through a crack in our chocolate-brown, blackout curtains. My full bladder wakes me up. I lay there for several minutes debating—get up and go to the bathroom, or roll over and try to go back to sleep.

The bladder wins.

I trudge to the bathroom, walk across the cold tile and sit down on the toilet. I hear Mia pound her paw against the back door. Grabbing my bathrobe off the hook on the back of the bathroom door, I head through the living room toward the sliding glass door.

My rubber boots are waiting for me on the floor right next to the door. I step into my boots and grab the leash. Mia jumps up on me while I try to get the door open. As the door slides open, cool air washes over me and takes my breath away as we walk down the steps. Mimi the-rotten-black-sheprador (one of our many nicknames for Mia) quickly finds a fresh patch of grass and does her business. We turn and head back into the house. Leash off the dog and boots off me, I shuffle back toward the bedroom.

As I skirt around the base of the bed, I see Jonathan has eked his way towards Daddy. I crawl around him, and hunker down under the soft, warm blankets and comforter. I grab the little guy to pull him closer to me. His small hand reaches out to touch my hair. He nestles up next to me. I kiss his cheek. He surprises me and quickly kisses mine. He rolls over and I start to scratch his back. He rolls onto his back and I rub his tummy. He falls asleep.

I lay there listening to his breathing. I look at his sweet face—creamy skin, closed eyes with long lashes, dark blond eyebrows with a little scar peeking out of the left one, a tiny button nose, round, rosy, apple cheeks, perfect heart-shaped lips—yes, I’m in love.

I curl up closer to my sleeping boy. I can smell his breath. His hair brushes my arm. I can see the rise and fall of his chest. I rub his leg. It’s still soft and squishy, but not like when he was a baby. In a blink of my eye he has outgrown his baby days, his toddler days, and he is now a bona fide boy.

And, I am truly in love with this boy, this child, this moment—this nano second in time. I do not ever want it to end. I want to breathe it into my core. Into my being and hold it captive. Moments, like these, are fleeting. I know.

I begin to pray, “Lord, thank you for this little boy. Thank you for these snippets of time—when I get to observe, to cuddle, to snuggle, to drink in all that You have for me. Thank you for trusting me and David with this child. I pray, Lord, that You will protect him—mind, body, and soul. And, that he will grow up to be a strong man of God. That he will hear Your voice and recognize it. That he will follow You all the days of his life. That he will recognize his worth and value, not as the world sees it, but as You do—worthwhile, special, unique.  And, that he will know he is deeply and truly loved. I seal this moment in time, Jesus, in Your name. Amen”

I close my eyes and a tear slips out. A happy tear. A blessed tear. A grateful tear. For cozy beds and warm blankets. For little black dogs and rubber boots. For a boy and his life. And, for early morning treasures.



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{ 1 comment… read it below or add one }

Faye February 22, 2012 at 10:30 pm

Oh, I have felt that feeling before too…love it. Eucharisteo, friend!

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