The softness of night and the innocence of sleep change everything. I look at the faces of my sleeping children and forgive them everything that went amiss in the reckless abandon of play. I see them as they are: fragile, transient, innocent…precious beyond words. The dark eyelashes sweeping round cheeks, lips delicate as rose petals, damp curls framing the face…my heart melts. I wish that I could wake them to say the “I love you” that was forgotten in the chaos of the day. But that moment is gone forever and my heart cries, “Please God, let me remember to say it tomorrow.” I kiss the sleeping cheeks, feeling the gentle puff of warm breath on my own cheek, and I know I am rich beyond measure and
blessed, but also fragile and vulnerable in my humanity. “How can I do this, God? How can I raise these children you’ve given me?”
But God is there with me; he reaches down and kisses my cheek and whispers in my heart the “I love you” that he never forgets to say. He holds my hand and tells me, “We’ll do it together. I’ll help you. I am with you always.”