Washing
dishes the other night, I was struck by a melody floating from the back of the
house. Easton and his puppy, Charley, were playing some form of tag/tug on the
rope/tackle football. Above the ruckus of a barking puppy, Hot Wheels cars
being slung against the wall, and the quiet thud of a rope hitting the floor, I
heard my favorite sound; sweet, melodic, full-bodied giggles from my precious
baby boy. His laughter now is different from what it will become as he ages.
When he enters junior high, and becomes concerned with the thoughts of pretty
girls, his laughter will turn to a nervous chuckle. In high school, it will be
heard loudest when someone farts. But for now, for today, I get to hear the
innocence and supreme purity of his joy. He’s not laughing AT someone, he’s not
finding humor at someone’s expense…no…he’s finding joy in the everyday. And
every day is gone too quickly, so I must enjoy right now.
“Savior, tender,
shepherd hear me. Bless your lambs tonight. In the darkness, be down near me,
and keep me safe ‘till morning light. Amen.” Every night, from the time I can
remember, my mom came into my room and tucked me in with this prayer. Her eyes
were bright, her hands were soft, and her hugs were warm. After she’d left me
to fall asleep in the glow of my red balloon lamp, all that lingered was the
soft, tingling scent of the Carmex from where she kissed my forehead. As a
child, I didn’t realize how much I needed her, or the smell of Carmex. My first
night in a cold, not-broken-in-yet dorm made my heart ache for my sweet mother
and our well-worn prayer. I think I fell asleep with an open jar of Carmex that
night. I just needed her near me…
