Sing Him a Song

It’s his face I still see, his fingers curled tightly around the edge of the crib rail.  Standing in his crib, he’s perfectly centered from my viewpoint in the doorway.  Tears roll down his cheeks, while cries pour from his mouth.


Go pick him up,...wipe his tears, lay his head on your shoulder, rub his back….sing him a song.

Sing him a song you sang hundreds of times to your fuzzy headed boys, one your mom sang to you, passed down through generations and hours upon hours spent in rocking chairs, with tiny fingers curled around a mama’s long one, until little bodies became heavy and sleep overtook them.

But, I couldn’t. No visitors permitted past this point.

Busy workers scrambled around, rotating the children through diaper changes and clean clothes after the messiness of lunchtime.  The floor was crowded with lots of little ones underfoot, clustered together like a mob, some reaching up and out for attention while others were content to take shoes out and in and out and in again from the shoe bin.  All of them anticipated one thing, naptime.  So many needs, yet not enough hands, and with the passing of each minute the tired pleas rose with a greater and greater urgency for sleep.

As I turned my back and walked out of the room that day, a wave of heaviness swept over me.  Leaving them as they expressed their need for comfort brought up within me feelings of helplessness and grief.  Grief for them that they don’t have a mama rocking them to sleep or stroking their chubby cheeks.  No one who gazes into their eyes, communicating without words, the message of safety, love, and belonging, while meeting their deepest needs with a touch and a familiar song from the one who brought them into this world.

Kyle just weeks after he was released
from the hospital

My mind quickly flashed back to the day I walked away from my first born in the NICU in Peru and the difficulty of leaving the hospital without my baby.  Even though it’s been 13 years, I can still see him lying in the incubator, feeling helpless to protect the one I loved so fiercely.

Quietly, but sure, both years ago with my baby and again this day, another voice rose up in my heart.  “He is not alone, I am here, always, he is mine, more precious to me than even a mother’s love can know.  I am singing over him with joy, he doesn’t go to sleep without a song.”

“For the LORD your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With his love, he will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.” Zephaniah 3:17
 
God put a song in my heart that day, one based on the scripture above….


Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me
You have been so, so good to me
Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me, yes you did
You have been so, so kind to me

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
Oh, it chases me down, fights 'til I'm found, leaves the ninety-nine
I couldn't earn it, I don't deserve it, still, You give Yourself away
Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God
(Reckless Love, by Cory Asbury)

Of course, God longs for restoration, for mamas to hold their babies and for healing from the brokenness from without and within that break this parent- child bond.  He asks us to play a part in this restoration, to sing a song when we can, but He also reminded me that His love isn't diminished or restrained in any way. 

What I couldn’t do, He can.  He is always “permitted to enter” and rejoice over us with a song.

~Sarah