Thursday, August 26, 2010

Lullaby



It's so interesting how certain things will remind me of a time long past and I am transported back to that event in my mind.


Tonight was one of those times. I was laying down, trying to fall asleep. The stickiness of the air coupled with the sound of crickets transported me back to my childhood bedroom. The memory of it is quite vivid.


It's summer. It's hot and humid. My grandparents didn't run the air conditioning at night. I try desperately to fall asleep. I am about eight years old. I turn over my feather pillow with the pink satin pillowcase as an attempt to cool off. I toss and turn and kick the flower-patterned sheets. Nothing is working. I know what I have to do, but I don't want to. I am scared. It is dark.


Reluctantly, I inch my way off the bed and slowly crack open the adjacent window. A slight breeze trickles in, but I am too afraid to notice. Who knows what could be lingering in the shadows?


I crawl back into bed, pulling the thin sheet over me, like somehow it was a layer of protection. I can't decide which is worse, the heat or my fear.


As I lay there, a song enters my head. It's a song I learned at church. I start singing it.


Father I adore you
I lay my life before you
How I love you

Jesus I adore you
I lay my life before you
How I love you

Spirit I adore you
I lay my life before you
How I love you


I remember that this song is repeated by others (like in a round) and although it is just me singing, I know without a doubt that I am not alone. Peace washes over me and I feel safe.


My heart swells at remembering that Jesus calmed the unfounded fears of this little girl with an (over) active imagination; and although what causes fear to rise up in me is very different than all those years ago, Jesus' response to me is not.


His perfect love casteth out fear and tonight He quiets me with his love as I relinquish the weight of it all (too much to name) to Him.


I prepare to drift off to sleep - safe in His arms.


An all-consuming lullaby rocks my soul to sleep.

1 comment:

Amy Smith said...

Thanks for sharing this memory. I could *see* you in it. Amazing how He is always there, always, always, if we simply have eyes to see Him. <><