Babies + Colds =

A very long week.

The monitor carries fuzzy sounds of a fussing baby to my ear. Nap time was hours ago, but still the little one cries. He has been up, fed, changed, put back down, picked back up, back-rubbed, hummed to. Still sleep evades him, his stuffy nose and small cough fighting off slumber.

Against my own nose, I press a tissue, a cold hand across my aching forehead. Augustine's City of God lies beside me, pencil stuck between pages. When I open it, the letters swim before my eyes. Once again my schoolwork is set aside, and I wonder if it will be done by class.

Baby sleeps now. In the absence of his cries, I can hear outside the softly falling rain. And, for some reason, I think of the Spirit, who is within me even now. Last week Baby's big brother, Noah, could not sleep.

"I'm scared of the dark," he whispered.

I told him he didn't have to be afraid of anything--not even the dark.

"You know why?" I asked.
"Why?"

Because Jesus is inside of you, I told him. No matter where you go or what you do, you are a vessel of the Lord. All of us, all God's people, have the Holy Spirit inside of us. How often do we stop to think about that? It's mind-boggling when you pause, still your heart, and reflect. We're not left to face colds and pink eye and crying babies alone. HE is with us. Inside of us.

When I think of this, I want to cry and laugh and run into the arms of Him who loves me. So why do I keep running the other direction? Why am I Gomar, why Israel? Oh Lord, continue to be faithful to me--to us, your people--even though we are continuously unfaithful. Help us to cling to you, to trust in you, even when the colds and pink eyes and baby tears of this broken world seem enough to tear us apart.

You won't let go.
This is all for redemption.