Yesterday I heard Dusty sing, in that sweet little hmm, hmmm, hmm.
One small enough to curl up in his lap.
He loved that.
His happiness is always a gift.
Last night, he didn't sleep.
No singing this morning.
I gave him kisses on his cheek.
He is, in his own way, a reader of my thoughts.
A caregiver to my feelings.
He's content only when all is happy around him.
I don't want him to think he must be happy just for me.
That he's a burden when he isn't feeling well.
He's a gift and a teacher just as he is, right in this moment.
He might sing again if he can sleep through the night.
He will sing even more beautifully in eternity.
"Prayer... is grappling with the issues of life
in the presence of God
before the throne of grace."
in the presence of God
before the throne of grace."
