When Shiloh was a baby, she slept holding that little pink bear.  She would take the very tip of its hat and rub it in between her fingers, or twirl it around.  Her hand always was clutching the end of the hat.  Now that she is older, she still sleeps with her bear (sometimes she doesn’t have to, but mostly she does).
I love that she has something that can comfort her.  Its familiar, she is used to it.  No matter where she is sleeping, her bear is the same.  She has formed a habit of rubbing the hat… so even if its not in her hand, notice her fingers, they are moving as if they were rubbing something.  Even in the deepest part of her nap, she is still rubbing her bear’s hat, despite the hat being held tightly in the other hand.

Her sweet innocence and pure trust that bear is there.  Her little hands, going through the motions.  I laid there and watched her sleep, thinking if only my faith was as trusting as hers… if only I would trust God whether or not I was clinging to Him or He was far away.  Its as if the world has stolen away some of that blind trust.  I am aware of whether or not God is near or far, and I allow that to change the way I act.  Instead I wish my little fingers would ‘hold His hat and rub it’ whether or not He was there or not.  That my trust and dependence on God was unshaken.  He is faithful and He is worthy of my habit of trust.  My brain knows this, but sometimes that space going down into my heart and the core of me is what breaks those good habits.


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