Day 5 of Seasoning: A Time to Hold

The creaking of the white slipcovered rocking chair lulls my little two-year-old blessing to sleep. My eyes flutter closed between the back and forth motion, and for a moment, I feel like we are one heart.

His wispy blond-brown hair tickles my neck, but I dare not move. His breathing slows to an even pace, its own metronome for slumber. Suddenly, he raises his head and cups my face with his hands.

"Momma...Momma, Wock? Momma...Momma, Night Night?" his eyes lock with mine, and I gasp inside as I realize it is a little boy staring back at me.

I gently guide his head back to my shoulder, hoping he doesn't tire of this nightly ritual too soon. It's a time to hold. A time to treasure. For the first time all day, he is still, and he is mine.

I sing a blessing over him from Numbers 6. The ancient words that were imparted from the Father to Moses, from generation to generation, now echo from my heart to my son.

The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace.

The chair creaks. My son sleeps, and I am fighting to stay awake.
I'm fighting to remember this Time to Hold. For one day, he will fly into bed like Superman, refusing to let me tuck him in. He will sit miles away in a college dorm, awake at 3am because he is his mother's son...always working the best under pressure. He will hold the hand of someone he loves, and he will ask her to be his wife. He will hold a child of his own, and the creaking of slipcovered chairs will quiet the little blessing.

I'm holding tight to let go.

I'm treasuring moments of slobber as he drifts into sleep.

Just as I hold my child each night, God wants to hold you.

What's the difference? He isn't holding just to eventually let go. He's in that rocking chair the whole night, speaking sweet words of love over you as you rest with Him. His eyes don't flutter closed from exhaustion. He doesn't mentally cross off his to-do list or impatiently wait for you to fall asleep.

Crawl into his lap. Speak his name.


"Daddy..."