Rocking My Son to Sleep
Among my most endearing activities of my parenting experience, one in which I had been truly blessed in participating with, shortly after the birth of son, was the activity of rocking him to sleep.
Hearing the young child cry, the saddened plea from a heart of utter dependency, dependent on me for her every need, how could a Father turn a deaf ear?
I couldn’t. He can’t!
Knowing that food, or the diaper was not an issue, the wife knew and provided most, but I tried to help when I could, mostly when she was so tired the extra sleep was as much of a gift for her, as the gift I was about to receive.
Not that I would deny him any need, how beautiful is the child when they desire the Father, coming with a need, and in this case the greatest need; love.
Sometimes people just want to know there is someone out there that cares. Why should the baby be any different, a dark room, finding yourself alone, after being in a loving mothers womb for the last ten months. The baby would get upset, shoot I would. But I have to admit that hearing her call for me, for just some loving comfort was better then Mozart to my ears.
I’ll go and pick him up. After seeing that nothing essential was needed, or giving some simple need that she may have, and then always a little holding, a little comfort, a translation of love from me to her, is all he needed to get a little sleep again, to fall back into that place of perfect contentment and warmth.
Now comes the good part; she wraps her little arms around me, enveloping his head into my chest as I gently rock, and maybe just speak some almost inaudible tone as to have her hear the soft rumbles of my voice while he lay.
The words; “my son, I love you so much”, “my daughter you are so precious to me”, maybe just a simple tune, roll off the Father tongue so easily, I believe no army of this land could stop me from demonstrating My love in words to him.
She nestles in, adjusting herself for a safe and comfortable place, That adjusting edging closer if that could be possible, to the point where the edge of me and the start of him is indistinguishable.
The soft breath of his soul, his very being fills my lounges with a sent of clean spring softness, touched with the essence of purity, that as it caresses my own, all the love that I have ever felt, the Father has ever known, give it’s overwhelming pull to wrap His powerful arms around His child. A place of total comfort, of complete safety.
Oh how I eagerly made minutes into hours as I rocked into the night. The touch of my own sleep wings slowly caressed my satisfied thoughts.
The tender gentleness of it’s perfect cheek, the soft cue of that perfect voice tingles My ear with a tears salty caress. I don’t know if every parent felt as I, and I don’t know if every parent was blessed with the feeling of love that I received, but the heat that issued out of my child penetrated and enveloped my heart as completely as a warm bath on a cool winters night. She gave to me, oh so much more then I felt I gave.
The tender grip of wanting fingers as they held tight their Father. All I could do to kiss that little hand. Oh could it but last an eternity.
As the Father, I never turned away from the call of My so precious child, ever eager to feel his love, the gift of her comfort as she lay trusting with Me. No I longed for the time and cherished every moment as being among my life greatest gift. No greater gift could he give Me then when he held me, no purer honor could she bestow then the trust, the comfort of her security.
This is My child of which I would gladly give My life.
The child I did give My life for.
By Peter Colla
“Thank You Lord Jesus, for every time You allowed me to come to You, every time I called out in the night, and every time You rocked me to sleep. I offer You all the love that I can, as praise to a most loving Father who never said no to His child.”