For the second night in a row, my kid has proved her super-power prowess by staying awake from midnight until 4 a..m, never allowing us to put her down but finally sleeping on her Papa’s chest….which means, Papa gets no rest at all. I am 50 % in awe of her ability to behave as though nothing has happened at 6:30 this morning, and 50 % fighting the urge to flick her in the forehead.
I’ll let you know which half wins out.
For right now,I’m struck with the image of a more than tired Papa, holding a cranky toddler to his chest while she fights sleep, but won’t let go of her death grip on his arms.
How often has God held me, even when I didn’t want his help? How often have I flailed about, pushing his arms away all the while accusing Him of letting me go?
My husband’s been an incredible, Godly example of love to our little one when I have all but given up.
If you’re the praying sort, would you lift us up today? It is more exhaustion that has hit our family. We refuse to despair, to believe that this phase will last forever. We know that this has happened before, and we have lived to tell the tale. We know that, at times, it has even gotten better. But it’s hard to function today. And when it’s hard to function, it’s even harder to remember. Perhaps that’s why I tend to write more when it’s particularly difficult. Writing is the easiest way to remember.