I love tenor of Ann Voskamp's shared thoughts. The lilt of her voice and the cadence of her words coming together to paint a picture of her mind's heart. Her love of Jesus and relationship with Him pour out and pour into my own. She makes me think differently about Him. She makes me see Him differently and look back at times past with new eyes. New insights.
Every other week, I am blessed to be with these little ones. My heart longs for this time. They have no words, but speak with their eyes, their smiles, their snuggles, their hearts. It blesses me BIG! Last night, I fell asleep wondering which of my loveys would be there today. I dreamed wonderful, happy dreams with a handsome man in his Naval summer whites, wore a pretty frock in a creamy white, danced and laughed. This morning, I woke and prepared myself for my day thinking about the happy sentiment of the dream I had had and the babies who I would soon get to snuggle.
I am usually the early one, but today I was running late--too wrapped up in my happy, dreamy state. When I got to the nursery, a father was there with his baby girl, Josie. She is six months old, has feathery baby hair that is thick and wispy and auburn hued. She has blue eyes and long eyelashes that seem to touch her eyebrows when her little eyes are open. She is a petite little thing who is dressed in her embellished jeans, long-sleeved shirt with scalloped sleeves and a creamy, cable-knit cocoon cardigan. She looks like a little person. She has the sweetest disposition. As our time together passes the hour, she is getting sleepy. I place the silk-trimmed, emerald colored blanket her mom gave me on the floor and place her on it. She smiles and kicks. I lie down on the floor beside her and play. I think for a moment about my black pants and that I have to greet people in the next hour, but I don't care. I am being given an opportunity to have blessing poured on me from a little girl's heart.
She grabs the edging of her blanket and rolls toward me. She looks like a sweet pea wrapped in that emerald blanket. She puts her knuckle in her mouth to suck and we just look at each other. I smile at her and tell her she is such a sweetie. She smiles around the knuckle in her mouth and I see her eyes move as she stares into mine. Maybe she is wondering what I am thinking just as I wonder what she is thinking. She blesses me with her innocence, her smile without pretenses, her freeness of spirit. This morning is a reminder to me why I am there every other Sunday. As much as I do it for these little children, I also do it for me. These little ones are a balm on my heart. All they know is trust and love. I hope each of them will hold onto that and those that lose it find their way back to it again someday.
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