I have been fussy lately.
Easily annoyed. Irritable.
Mouthing my complaints.
She lay here. Me on my left side- my favorite side on which to sleep. Her back up against my belly. All cuddled and close. I love it. Her smooth, soft skin touching mine. Her silky hair tickling my arm. You do not need to write to me about the wrongs of having children sleep with you. It does not happen that much. Well, not really. I was so cold last night that I did request that she dream alongside me so that I could warm myself like one warms hands over a fire. But too soon the fire burns too hot and I kick off half of my covers. Half because if I kick them all off then I wake from the cold and the process is repeated. But if I just use half of them then the half HOT and half COLD balance to an overall warm. That is the plan anyway but it does not always work.
Right now I lay awake. The room is dark. My body temperature seems fine (one of few specific, predictable reasons that I awaken mid-sleep) but my mind is full of one thousand things flying through it like a jet taking off for Chicago. My thoughts of anger, worry, fear. They come at my mind like the harsh cries of an infant. Think about the cry of a baby. Babies do not whimper as when a child scuffs his knee; they WAIL until they get what they want. If they do not get gratification; they WAIL LOUDER!
Then I feel her warmth again, the smoothness of her body, the softness. My thoughts hone in on her body lying next to mine. She has put on a little winter weight and her belly is almost as soft as Mama's beside her. I love these moments. Yes, I love to cuddle. But I also love that she is QUIET. Still. Peaceful. So content lying in my embrace.
For she is not usually like that. In moments of awakeness she is my high-spirited child with the disposition of a drill sergeant stuffed in a three-foot body. Very trying. Very demanding. Is it temperament or parental error? I concede that it is probably some of both. But NOW she is resting so smug and serene.
"Nicol...." The Voice speaks softly.
"THAT is how I want you to be with Me- like a weaned child lying in my embrace."
"Oh, yes. Of course, Daddy." My tantrums flutter in my mind. My disheveled peace that has been riding the waves of my emotions. The images of "cry baby", "whining baby", selfish woman who needs to get a new perspective...are leaving.
"Rest in Him," I tell myself.
"Surely I have composed and quieted my soul;
Like a weaned child rests against his mother,
My soul is like a weaned child within me." ~Psalm 131:2
I purpose to not voice my baby cries. I purpose not to have them in the first place. Instead of squalling as a nursing baby until I am satisfied I shall rest in His embrace as I put my trust and hope in Him.
My Daddy and I have known each other for a while now. I am a big girl. And I love that I can still bare my back to Him in an intimate embrace. He knows that I am a woman, but to Him I am still His little girl.
I am weaned.
I can trust Him.
So I "still" and "quiet" my soul. I do this by the Stong's Concordance definition of composing myself. I gain a new perspective. I level my thoughts and emotions so that they are not tossing to and fro; I equalize them by casting down vain imaginations that would exalt themselves above what I know to be TRUE. (2Corinthians 10:5) I leave that place of "My Whiny World" and escape to the shore of a calm child.
And I fall asleep.
Are you whining or weaned?