Occasionally, not as often as I’d like, but occasionally I will wake up early and sit in the big brown recliner with a red cup of coffee and I will read my pink leather Bible that my sweet husband gave me for my 28th birthday. And it is quiet. And still. And glorious.
And on occasion, I will be in the middle of reading when the little footfalls hit the stairs- urgent. Because oh my gosh, I haven’t seen Mommy ALL night. And her little head will peek around the corner of the chair with her sleepy eyes to see if she has me all to herself. And if she does, she’ll crawl up into the chair beside me as I finish reading.
And sometimes, if I’m at a particularly interesting part, I will read the story to her. And she’ll nod silently… not sure if she is really awake.
Or sometimes we’ll be driving to school in silence with the steady breathing of Baby’s rest and the hum of the road and I’ll tell her what I read that morning. And in the rearview mirror her eyes will be watching the trees and the clouds and I wonder.
So… yesterday we were doing something ordinary. So ordinary, in fact, that I cannot remember what it was and out of the hum-drum forgetful ordinary shot a ray of unbelievably brilliant revelation. She didn’t even look at me. She just went on about her ordinary and simply asked,
“What story did you read?”
At first I didn’t quite understand what she was asking. It came out of nowhere and caught me on my heels. When? What? Story? What story? Where? At school? On my phone? Here? What?
“What story did you read? This morning?” she re-stated her question carefully. Mommies need to spoken to slowly and in simple words. And sometimes repetitively.
Then it hit me. This bursting revelation. Starting as a flicker, then swelling into a blazing reality that took my breath away.
I mean. Really.
She is watching me. She is listening to what I say. She is aware of what I am doing. She is hearing my words and taking in our every day and her little brain, which has been an observant and thoughtful one since she was a baby, is thinking. Always thinking.
And yesterday it was thinking about God. And me. And the Bible. And our time together in the morning stillness.
And as much as that time alone is sacred and holy and precious to me…
It is much holier when she sneaks in.