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.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
Adorable. I miss the little guy.
Post a Comment