For the past few nights Mike and I have brought John Paul into bed with us. Partially because the nasty cough he has is making us a little nervous, and partially because we haven’t had a chance to lower his crib mattress yet, which is necessary to fix this problem:
The other night, as we all laid in bed together, the voices of Mike and I talking awoke John Paul. He popped his head up abruptly, looked at Mike, and smiled. With obvious effort he tiredly held his head up for a minute, a huge grin on his face, then promptly plopped it down, going back to sleep. I wouldn’t have noticed if Mike hadn’t pointed it out, but as he lay there snoring, the smile stayed on his face.
Watching my son, amidst the never-ending worries and questions of my restless heart, I’m reminded of the beautiful truth that a glimpse of our loving Father is enough. We can drive ourselves crazy endlessly striving for answers to “Why?,” “When?” and “How?” But what if we instead strived to cultivate patience and live a life of trusting hopefulness? What kind of beautiful contentment might we then discover?