His little body hunches over on my lap, hands clutching the sides of his head as he buries his face in my lap. My son prays over my daughter before her nap.
Jesus, I love You. Thank you for creating. Thank you for creating butter and sugar. I need you to build something else. I need you to build us a bigger faith.
He pauses, looks up at me with his brow still knit from the effort of thought and prayer. I gape at him, this formidable man of faith hanging in the stasis of a little body. He nods at me, eyes locked on mine, kisses Lucy on the cheek and jaunts off to his room and his Spiderman puzzle.
Amen. And amen.
Every child comes with the message that God is not yet discouraged of man. Rabindranath Tagore
O, how much I learn from the golden grace of motherhood!