It’s 1:30am and my growing toddler doesn’t want to be alone. His year and half on this earth has taught his dad the difference in his cries. Some are more dramatic than others. A born performer, he knows when to lay it on thicker to achieve his desired effect. Tonight however, he gets his sleepy eyed dad to cave and open the door. While some parents would surely wait it out longer, I have yet to built the steel willed resolve of such militant caretakers. While the lapse of sleep will surely have me second guessing while I gently rock him to sleep – trading his rest for mine – I learned long ago that parenting is purely a roll of the dice. On many occasions you feel your way towards resolution by patching together what you learn from past encounters, disregarding what those around you earnestly suggest.
Nights like these are never convenient but neither is parenting. There is nothing easy about any relationship, let alone that of a tiny stubborn human. As I sway intermittently on a comfortable, but not sleeping comfortable plush rocker, I reflect on the stark peace found here. While deadlines loom and new bills shout for payment, in this nursery time stands still among stuffed bears and sound machines. It has become increasingly clear that one day in the future, my little guy will no longer want me to rescue him from bad dreams and tummy aches. But tonight, he wants his dada and in this, I’m happy to oblige. His need puts life in perspective for his cynical old man. It teaches me of a greater need in all of us. All of a sudden the job titles and accolades of this present world mean little compared to this tiny breath.
And here is grace.
I see the hand of God in my relationship with my son, even through the yawns and tears. In the headlights that dance through the room I see a greater light not found in any pulpit or manufactured worship experience. Here God is practical, real, Human. Each of us crave these glimpses of something greater, something to keep us from losing the slight hope not yet stolen from a bewildering world. For me, a chronic doubter of all things hopeful, I rest in a tiny inconvenient alarm clock who the Father has graciously used to bring me back to Himself.
And here is grace.
Matt simon blog 