Sunday, August 21, 2005

My Favorite Time of Day

How I wish I could say my favorite time of day is whatever time it currently happens to be, the now, the present. But I'm just not that "zen." I have my prejudices. I find the time I hold the dearest is those sweet moments right before sleep. He picks out his books, we snuggle as I read them aloud, and then we turn out the lights and I lay beside him until he drifts into dreaming. It's during that precious time that I really stop and pay attention . Sadly it's about the only time during my frantic day that I turn my mind off to everything else and practice true consciousness. Sure, during other times throughout the day I notice the new bruise on his cheek, the dirt underneath his fingernails, the spaghetti sauce on his shirt. But it's during this time that I notice something more. I see all the wonder and possibility in the palms of his hands, the softness of the tip of his nose, the pink and purple veins running across his downy cheek that remind me so much of Lela's. And, when I look closely at his deep brown eyes, I see myself in his features and I'm softened and humbled. Then, we offer our prayer to God, not your typical "Now I lay me down to sleep" or "Our Father who art in heaven," but the kind of prayer a two-year-old soul understands. The prayer of a mother holding her son close, singing several rounds of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. And isn't that what prayer is really about anyway? Not the words, but the act of two spirits separated by flesh and bone, reconnecting in the sweet darkness, finding their way back to each other, back to the oneness they came from, belonging once more to each other and to God.


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