She came to me tonight, in the dark. Her hair was still wet from her bath and she smelled of green apple conditioner.
“Mama, will you rock me?”
“Oh, yes, baby. I would love to.”
She curled on to my legs, too awkward to nestle into my arms. Now her body is so long that her arms have to wrap around my neck, her head on my shoulder. Her legs overflowed my lap, pouring down the length of my own and grazing the carpet with her toes. I didn’t care. I held her like the newborn she used to be. I restarted the rocking rhythm that began before she was even born; the same rhythm that’s been on pause for a few months – or has it been years?
I held her. I thought of the words to a song that started my day today:
“The sun comes up, it’s a new day dawning. It’s time to sing Your Song again. Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes. Bless the Lord, oh my soul…”
I held her, and realized the Song had changed tempo countless times today. It was a day that started with trepidation and worry for the lives in another time zone.
“Your love never fails, it never gives up, it never runs out on me.”
Then it evolved into a morning of flurried activity with whiplash speed. A thousand melodies pinged at my brain, each played on the instruments of someone else’s heart. My part of the blessing was getting to open my ears and listen to those hearts.
“Open up the doors and let the music play. Let the streets resound with singing!”
“And nothing formed against me shall stand. You hold the whole world in Your hands. I’m holding on to Your promises. You are faithful. You are faithful!”
“We are His portion and He is our prize, drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes. If grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.”
“God loves you and me. God loves you and me. Jump up, jump down, jump all around…”
The morning ended and:
“With all creation I sing, praise to the King of kings. You are my everything, and I will adore You.”
Home. And an unraveling. Cracking open, unclogging the drain and letting the wetness seep out until I could touch bottom again. Another Song:
“All of You is more than enough for all of me. For every thirst and every need, You satisfy me…”
Life needed to get done. Food to be bought. Errands to be run. Then in the parking lot, the place where I got my start came to nestle in my heart. I wept as I sang a new Song:
“My chains are gone. I’ve been set free! My God, my Savior, has ransomed me. And like a flood, His mercy rains. Unending love, amazing grace.”
I missed her, all over again. And I told my girl about my own mama and why Amazing Grace can make me laugh and cry at the same time. Dinner. Home. Bath, and then the question:
“Mama, will you rock me?”
The tempo changed, and I heard it one more time:
“Whatever may pass and whatever lies before me, let me be singing when the evening comes.”
My cheeks were wet. My arms were full. My hands held as loosely tight as possible. I rocked, and I remembered the rhythm my own mother started in my soul; the same rhythm I continued with her granddaughter.
My heart overflowed, and the wetness seeped out again. Her breathing slowed, and mine matched hers. She held on to me in a way that told me her heart knew I needed to be held tonight. In her embrace, I felt my Savior’s arms holding me close and rocking me with His whispered lullabies.
It’s His tempo, His rhythm. It soothes me, it carries me, and it astounds me that I might get to sing His song again tomorrow.