on snuggling

I mentioned awhile back that I'd regrettably not snuggled enough with my son. Since then, at every nap and bedtime opportunity, I've been adding a little snuggle time to our routine. Sometimes he just wants to sit and snuggle. Sometimes we sing silly songs (anyone else completely over the itsy bitsy spider?) or my favorite hymns. Sometimes we pray.

Last night, during our snugglefest, I was telling Asher how much his Mommy loves him.
And how much his Dada loves him.
And his friends and grandparents and aunts and uncles love him.
And even people he's never actually met.
We all love him.

But our loves pale in comparison to the One who loves him.
The One who created him.
The One who dreamed up those long eyelashes,
those wild little curls,
his chubby hands,
his very busy feet,
and put them all together perfectly.
Knit together, piece by perfect piece, into this precious child that I have the honor of loving, too.

In those quiet moments of rest, where Asher looks into my eyes, takes deep breaths, and rests in my arms, I am reminded of the Father's desire for all his children to seek His face,
to bask in His great love,
and to rest in His arms.
No singing necessary,
no prayers to be said.
Just breathing in His righteousness
and resting in His strong and open arms.