Seven is in his crib right now... crying and crying.
Nap time starts with singing and rocking in dark room... and then i gently lay him in his bed, and the peaceful child starts crying his little heart out. I softly tell him it's ok and walk out of the room. The crying continues... 1 minute, 3 minutes, 5 minutes.... after 10 minutes i go back in and wind up the lullaby box, find his Binky and rub his tummy. He stops crying and grabs my hand as if i am leaving forever, not wanting me to walk out of the room. I slowly pull my fingers away and sneek out. The crying starts again. 3minutes, 5, minutes, 12 minutes... i head back in. The tears are streaming down his face and i pick him up. The binky is somehow at the other end of the crib. I put it in his mouth and walk around the room singing softly "Jesus loves me this i know..." he quiets down and softly whimpers behind the soothing rubber in his mouth. Seven reaches up and grabs my hair... his eyes wonder if the tight grip on my long locks will keep me there longer. As i lay him back down under the soft brown blanket, he spits out the Binky and the crying starts again. It's a tired cry. He didn't sleep much last night and his morning nap was shorter than normal. 5 minutes... the crying has stopped. All i can hear is the lullaby box, a soft whimper, and occasional sigh.
I remember so many times with all my younger siblings the lessons about nap time when they are little. Crying is ok. They aren't hungry, they aren't wet, they are tired and need to sleep. They need rest. I remember with Elijah it was so hard to let him cry. He was so little and cute and wonderful.... but the crying at nap time basically ripes out ones heart!!!! All he wanted was to be held. All Seven wants is to be held. He wants to know that i am right there. To feel safe in the arms of one who loves you so much! My mom taught me the art of letting the little one cry. Wait a few minutes and go back in... each time let the clock tick longer. It's so hard. I just want to rock him until he falls asleep. I want to sing him Jesus Loves Me 500 times while he coos and sniffles. But he is ok. He is safe, fed, dry and tired. Eventually he will fall asleep.
I was reading in Matthew 15 today... the story about the woman who comes to Jesus, because her daughter is tormented by a demon. 3 times Jesus ignores or rebukes her. She is a gentile. However her faith went down in history as an example of some who didn't stop asking, who didn't stop crying out for a miracle.
I have been pondering her story all day, and while i was rocking Seven it all came together in my mind. I cry out to Jesus on a regular basis. I hold on to His hand as if i will never hold it again. I reach out for a hug as if it's the last hug i will have from my savior. I cry out. I am not in danger. I am not hungry. I am not sitting in a puddle of life. I am tired and i just want to be held by the One who holds me best. I just want Him to sing over me. I want Him to tell me "it's ok" 500 times over. I don't want Jesus to leave my room. And so i cry out.
Is the cry in Faith that He will answer or in fear that He won't? For me it depends on the day. It depends on where my perspective is. I would like to think that the prayers of Faith, like the woman are more common than the cries of Nap Time Tears... i'm not sure what the ratio is. probably close to 50/50. He is always here. He always hears my cries. I think, however that He is listening for Faith not Fear. He is listening for belief that He is who he has proven time and time again He. He has never left me in the dark, hungry, scared, and wet. NEVER. He has never left me alone and not returned to remind me that He is just a moment away. Somtimes i turn away and forget He is there, but He has never left me.
The house is quiet. All i hear is the clicking of the keys as my fingers fumble across the black keyboard, and the tic-tock of the clock in the kitchen. Seven is asleep. The lullaby box is silent. My heart is stirred up; Faith is rising to the surface of my every thought. The picture of Matthew 15:21-28 is so real in my mind. I can see the woman, her eyes pleading, tears streaming down her flushed cheeks, her hair is a wild mess from the search for the One who could free her daughter. Jesus is there. His back is turned towards her. His face is deep in thought. He knows her face without looking. He seems to be waiting for something, either that or pondering what the next few moments hold. The 12 look on in frustration and annoyance. Her last request hangs in the air... a cry of faith and determination to see a miracle that day...
"Woman," Jesus said to her, "your faith is great. Your request is granted."
And her daughter was healed instantly."
And her daughter was healed instantly."
I hope to some day sit with that woman and her the joy that must have flooded her heart when she heard those words. I wonder the laughter that must have filled her house that night. I think about her daughter, sleeping peacefully because the tormentor was gone. I think about her faith. Great faith. She has no name, but her Nap Time Tears were full of Faith, and she cried out expecting the answer she wanted. She didn't let anything stand in her way... and she heard those words from the One who can speak life, breathe truth and walk in Power.
"Your faith is great."