Peace

Bedtime routines were always important when I was growing up. My mom would read to each of us five minutes every night. We made it through The Chronicles of Narnia, The Hobbit and the subsequent trilogy, lots of Anne of Green Gables books... This tradition carried us through grade school and even into high school. Mom would read and then I'd pray - and then it was lights out.

But that wasn't all. My dad would always come in to say good night. Sometimes he'd come in right after Mom, sometimes it wouldn't be until much later - after getting home from Council or some other night meeting. He'd kiss my forehead and say, "Good night, Heidi. God bless you. I love you."

Samara's bedtime routine lasts about an hour... it includes bathing, watching some Baby Einstein, reading a story, nursing, and singing Jesus Loves Me. But later on in the evening... several hours after she's gone to sleep, Tim and I always sneak one more peek. We watch her little chest - to make sure it's moving up and down. We look at each other and grin. We avoid the creaky parts of the floor as we leave her room.

Samara and I are both missing her Daddy's contribution to the nighttime routine. It's sad for me not to be able to explain that Dadda will be home in five more days. As far as she knows, he'll never be back... or he'll be back any minute. Does she miss him? I think so.

The words to the song, Peace, from my favorite childhood record, The Music Machine, ran through my head today:

Peace is when the wind stops blowing.
Peace is where the sun is showing.
Knowing that my daddy’s home.
God gives me peace.

Peace is when I’m tucked in bed.
When my mommy pats my head.
Peace is smiling while I sleep.
God gives me peace.

Peace, peace,
I think I understand.
Peace, peace
is holding Jesus' hand.