morning: mumbling towards mystery

toddler morning

He is up at dawn, hours before his older brother starts to sing. Bright sunlight slips through the slats of his window blinds, enough to rouse his tousled head from sleep.

Two rooms over, I hear his protests grow louder. I give up the dream of sleep, untangle my limbs from their warm cocoon and stumble across the cool wood floor. Morning birds in the pine tree near my window chirp too cheerfully for anyone without caffeine.

As I slowly push open the door to his soft yellow room, he turns with wide eyes, then beams delight when he recognizes my face. She’s here!

We roll into regular rhythm of morning routine: cuddle, kiss; nurse, change; breakfast, books. The house wakes up slowly around us, creaking as it stretches into sunshine.

He begins to rub his eyes, push away the spoon. I wipe smears of banana off his cheeks and gather him into my arms. We climb back up the stairs, slowly and soft to keep big brother sleeping.

We settle into the rocker in the corner, cool breeze fluttering curtains. I pull a stack of small books onto my lap next to him, their gnawed corners proof of baby belovedness. I read a counting book, a barnyard story, an owl tale. His chubby fingers fumble to turn the pages.

I wonder how my words sound to his ears. The rise and fall of their cadence, a sing-song of mystery. Only by tuning to the rhythm of language will he learn to speak for himself. But for months it must seem a strange mumble that tumbles from our mouths.

Does God’s word fall the same? I wonder. Muffled and mysterious on ears that make no sense of strange sounds.

Only over time and the slow, steady turning of my mind’s desire to learn does their shape become clearer. The heart senses meaning where it couldn’t before: maybe God sounds like this; maybe God means like this.

God keeps speaking, patient and prodding, while I fumble to turn the pages. Trusting that truth will emerge, hoping that small epiphanies will awaken me to some deeper understanding.

A glimpse of a face I recognize as beloved: She’s here!

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6 Comments

  1. Thrift Store Mama on 21 June 2012 at 8:10 pm

    Those moments, when my children’s gaze meets mine, whether at school pick up, or in the morning, or in a crowd at a birthday party, always seem so precious.

    • mothering spirit on 22 June 2012 at 11:13 am

      Agreed. We spend so much time looking at our kids or asking them to look at us, but we rarely hold their gaze and really look at the beauty before us.

  2. mkk on 24 June 2012 at 2:12 am

    Ooo just savored these words…read slowly and let the images roll around in my mouth. This is why I need your writing! It feeds me!

    Thinking about God’s voice…my persistent baby ears. Thankful I can still hear love even if I don’t totally understand it.

  3. Lydia on 2 July 2012 at 8:00 am

    I love this post. So beautiful and soft and simple – yet profound at the same time. Your writing is a gift!

    I hope you’ll consider linking up over at my place – I’m launching Mindful Mothering Mondays today and would love to have you! 🙂

  4. i am because we are « mothering spirit on 29 November 2012 at 1:06 am

    […] I’m firmly his favorite parent. It’s a fleeting phase, I know; they all are. So I soak it up for a season, laugh when he collapses on himself in chortles when I open the door to his room in the morning. Pure delight: she’s here! […]

  5. […] sleep and heaps of housework – the usual ups and downs of life with littles. But there were also quiet moments full of God: doing nothing and resting after, slowing down and listening, living and forgiving each other. I […]

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