I can see for miles and miles

I can see for miles and miles

Third Sunday of Easter, April 15, 2018

I lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.

–  From Psalm 4

Before Miles smiles, his eyes sparkle and his nostrils flare. The dimples on his cheeks spring up and his lips part. Just a little. And then, wow. Like the sun rising, he smiles. Today he has six teeth, and they glisten in the light. The world turns on Miles’ smile. There is no telling what today will bring.

In the morning, when we rise, Miles is sometimes siting in his crib talking to himself. He has a lot to say. We want to decipher it and talk with him in his tongue, but this is difficult.

And why, after all, would I want to mess with the mystery?

He whispers and shouts and sighs and giggles in splendiferous words of a single syllable. He moves comfortably now and then into longer songs. When he says, “Aaaahhh,” in one or several parts, I just … relax. Sometimes I can say “Aaaahhh” too! There is no place else I’d rather be. Miles loves to take us with him to his safe place, where all of us will nap in peace.

We sat on the patio one sunny April afternoon, whiling away time before supper. Miles has a new green bucket just his size. He found a few special rocks and several even-more-special sticks and put them in the bucket. After a few minutes he learned how to tip the bucket up and pour them out again. His eyes sparkled­. Yes, they did.

These specialized tasks take a ton of energy, so he is silent. He does not smile. He stares carefully at what he’s doing. He seems to reconsider, change his mind, often. He repeats stuff. Experience appears on the cavern-roof of his mind. It drips, and collects, and makes new shapes. Miles is building his own personal castle deep within, he and his Abba hanging out together. They are always together, he and his Abba. They glance now and then at the door, knowing friends will come to visit, welcoming them when they come, and learning every moment to be loved.

Miles and I listened to Winnie-the-Pooh just out of the afternoon sun. Our backyard, bit of a jungle, hundred-acre wood of our own making, beckons. I remember how A.A. Milne, soldier in The Great War who marched for the English king, lived for months in a trench with his dwindling platoon. During heavy rains flood waters raced down the trenches and trapped the men.

Now Piglet is the trapped one, smallest of the small, caught in his low-slung home with the waters rising. The rains won’t stop. Noise at night won’t let him sleep. Piglet sends out a corked bottle that carries a plea for help. With Owl flying ahead, Pooh and Christopher Robin ride their umbrella to Piglet’s rescue.

Aaahhh. Once again now, all are safe in the hundred acre wood. All are safe in our backyard jungle. We lie down and sleep, surrounded by lullaby. Every breath, every moment and hour, all the days of our life, you O Lord, make us dwell in safety. Your touch in my soul quiets every belching unseen gun.  The soldiers are all gone home and the trenches, for now, are all filled in. Your sun shines high in the sky.

Miles smiles. You, O Lord, are so pleased, and you smile too.

O Lord God, alone I cannot withstand withering fire or rushing flood, for I am without defense. I will fall in avalanche and earthquake, and settle into oblivion. O Lord, how can we do more than dwell with you in safety, sleep in peace? Even as our own constructions crack and crumble overhead, it is your house once, your house twice, your house every time in which we dwell forever.

 http://www.davesandel.net/category/lent-easter-devotions-2018/

http://www.christiancounselingservice.com/archived_devotions.php?article_id=1708