I half-smiled, intrigued by the alertness of my almost 7 week old son. Then, he cooed. My heart fluttered and my eyes opened even wider. Between yawns I talked to him, cuddled him, and laughed at his attempts to control his fly-away arms.
Thank you Jesus.
I sat up in bed, with him beside me and began to pray. He cooed again. It caught my attention. I proceeded to tell him that I am talking to Jesus right now, and a little courtesy would be appreciated. He puckered his lips. I told him I am sure he had his personal time with God, and it's mommy's turn. He smiled wide. I smiled back.
I turned my attention back to prayer ... a knock at the door. It was the almost 2 year old. She was awake and decided crawling into my bed would be a good start to her morning.
I let her in, and knelt down by the bed to try again.
Another knock. I continued praying while I opened the door again, this time for the 4 year old. She joined the bed brigade. I walked around in my room, continuing in prayer and praise. The sun was shining brightly, the rest of the house was still peacefully quiet. I was inspired to thank God for them. The children who give me insight into myself. They help me see where I am falling short, and they help me see where I am strong. They give me purpose. They increase my understanding of God. I understand how God feels at times when I think I know more than he does. I understand that God is always watching, ready to catch me before I fall, because I do the same thing. I can relate to their expectations when my children come to me with their hurts, for when I am hurt, I run to God. I know what I expect from him. I understand why,sometimes he says wait, or he says no. It is because He loves me, he is protecting me. One day they will understand this of me as well.
My children show me God -his character. Therefore I am blessed.
Thank you, Jesus
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