*painting our own cave art for history

Tonight, all my babies fell asleep as soon as their heads hit their pillows.  Not a peep from a single one. They have worked hard, played hard, and now they’re sleeping hard.

I am awake, alone, thinking about the goodness of God, and the fleetness of time.

They grow, these beautiful gifts of mine- and my heart swells and breaks a hundred times a day to behold it.  Sometimes, I wonder how I will survive motherhood.

I think about God, my Father, and I wonder, does He feel this way about me?  Is He in love with me this way?  As I change and grow, does His heart squeeze up?  Do my antics amuse Him, surprise Him?  Is He proud of me when I accomplish a new skill?  Does He hide a smile at my clumsiness, my mispronunciations, my childish errors?  Does He watch me when I sleep, and think I’m beautiful?  Does He smooth my brow, and wish me sweet dreams, and I sleep on unaware?  Is my picture in His wallet, my paintings on His refrigerator, my games on His calendar?  Is He loving me, more than I could possibly, possibly ever know?

I’m so used to thinking about all the shortcomings, all the sins and failures, all the ways I let Him down every day.  I hide, like Eve.  Ashamed, unlovely, fearful.  I forget, oh I forget, the Love. Let me remember the Love this week, more than any other thing.

Tell it to me a thousand times, and a thousand times again.  It isn’t that I don’t know it, I see evidence of it everywhere.  It is just that it is too wonderful, too inexplicable, too undeserved, to hold for very long in this little mind of mine.

So tell me again, God.  Tell me how You love me.  Tell me the story of how You made me, how you wanted me.  As wide as the sky, as deep as the sea, tell me how far Your love goes.  Count my fingers and toes, and the hairs on my head, and the days of my life…

The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save;

he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love;

he will exult over you with loud singing. Zephaniah 3:17

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