Monday, October 13, 2008

A Goodnight Kiss

Last night, full to overflowing with love and joy, I was talking to my husband about my favorite time of day. It may not sound all that exciting, but every night when I put our son to bed, there is something to learn, something to smile about and something to move me.

I'm too tired to write a description that will do justice to my nightly motherly bliss, between a day of ambitious organizing, the growing baby in my belly and the growing toddler in the next room... but like his sweet prayer, I have something too precious to keep to myself.

After stories and songs and prayers, after the goodnight kisses and exchanged "I love you's" my little one whispered a secret to me before I made my way to my own bed....

It was three little words I never could have imagined I would hear:

"God kissed me."

I'm sure he did, too. I can't remember the age of my innocence, so I don't really remember what that feels like. Or, I should say, I didn't. Because, through my child yet again, God touched me - and I suppose that feels something like a kiss.

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

A Simple Prayer

Sometimes the simplest words can be the most beautiful. If having a child hasn't taught me that, then I just might be incapable of learning.

Every night I say prayers with my son, who will be three next January, to give you perspective on his age. First we say the prayer I used to say as a child, the one that starts "Now I lay me, down to sleep..." which is followed by asking for blessing for "our Grammies and Papas, Aunties and Uncles, our cousins and our friends." Then we simply thank God for all of our blessings and ask for forgiveness for our sins. After the "amen" we started several months ago to say the Lord's Prayer. My little boy follows along and pronounces words the best he can, and his "Our Fodder" is enough to melt any heart.

But last night, he wanted to say his own prayer. He was adamant that he wanted to do it alone. So I kissed him goodnight and turned out the light and stepped outside his room, reminding him to say his prayer before he went to sleep.

As soon as I was outside the door, this is what I heard:

"Dear 'Word,' Goodnight. Thanks for evewything. I love you. Amen."

I had to go back in there. I told him how happy he made God because he wanted to talk to Him, and because he had said he loved Him, and told him how much God loved him too.

He didn't say anything, just snuggled down into his blankets and closed his eyes, grinning.

I love the rhythm and meaning of the Lord's Prayer, and say it often in addition to my personal, specific prayers. I have always taken comfort in its language and depth.

But last night, I found beauty in the simplicity of a prayer that I wasn't supposed to hear.