I remember lying in our bed. My fists tightly clenched the pillow my face was buried in. I sobbed, baptizing it in anguish and despair and expectation. I remember begging God for my baby. Father, hear thy child's call! I cried out in grief filled distress. Humbly at thy feet I fall. My body ached and I acknowledged my sin. I recognized anything and everything that might have been standing in the way of blessing. Prodigal confessing all. Eventually, sleep washed over my afflicted soul. I beseech thee, hear me!
I remember because it was a night of wrestling, confession, and confusion. My tears, it seemed, could have flooded the earth. I cannot adequately describe the emotion that exploded that night--but I remember. How could I forget being on the losing end (always) of a wrestling match with the Lord?
Last night Garrett woke up before I ever crawled into bed. It was 10:30 and I was watching TV. Troy was in the office working on something for church. Suddenly I heard Garrett crying in his room. I flew up the stairs and opened his door. He stood, disoriented, blanket sleeper clad, in the middle of the bedroom. I scooped him into my arms and quickly closed the door so as not to wake the sleeping baby. He put his head on my shoulder and I carried him down with me so that I could finish the show. I flicked off the light and, as I collapsed onto the couch, he cuddled into my body. When the show was over I shut off the television. Moonlight poured in through the open blinds on the back door. Tree branches, raped of their leaves by the autumn, swayed in the wind and cast their shadows across the carpet. My son breathed heavy, his chest bumping into mine as he slept. So much bigger than yesterday. So much bigger than the day before. So much bigger than the tiny baby they put into my arms after a 25 hour labor. So much bigger, wiser, better than the baby I beseeched the Lord for.
It was peaceful, quiet, and late. The fire, and my child, warmed me and kept the chilly fall air at bay. Leaves swirled outside the door and Garrett sighed with content--safe in his mother's arms. I sighed with content--safe in my Father's arms, soaking in the joy of answered prayer.
Psalm 6:9 The LORD has heard my cry for mercy; the LORD accepts my prayer.