I agreed to let her sleep with me tonight hoping that time spent together in rest can heal the time spent earlier in the day in angst.
It's good practice to watch a child sleep in peace especially when that child's waking hours were less than peaceful.
I denied her request to sleep with me last night, wanting to enjoy time on my own, alone in my big girl bed, free of kicking feet and chasing covers, but tonight was different. Tonight I needed to be near to this child, she, on the receiving end of most of my day's exasperation. So tonight, when she crept timidly downstairs in her fuzzy robe, doll awkwardly in her grasp and dared to ask once more, I said yes.
It seemed like it might help to iron out the wrinkles we'd placed in each other today, both of us a bit off-kilter from the slight imbalance of a missing person in our dailyness. Could it be that laying my head next to hers as we sleep will perhaps negate all of the head-to-head moments we'd both endured during the day?
I can only hope.
I move the baby doll aside and scoot blanket-warmed body parts over just enough to allow space for me to sleep too, but not far enough away that I can't feel the warmth of her and hear the sound of her soft breathing or smell the sweet scent of her hair.
Sighing, I am reminded that tomorrow begins fresh for the both of us, clean slates, rested bodies, cleared minds and fresh resolve. The only thing from today that we need to carry into tomorrow is the knowledge that our Father loves us both dearly, and that He is able because, as today has proven, we are so very not. Tomorrow will dawn with all of its potential, all of its promise, all of its blessings, and all of its challenges and I and this child, who, even as she sleeps, has snuggled tightly against me, will meet it head-on first thing...together.
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