I awake early to James fussing through the monitor. I lean over to see that my phone says 6:28 am. I wait. He is not crying, just fussing. I close my eyes and almost drift back off to sleep. “Ah!” he exclaims in his “I’m awake, come get me!” voice. I smile with my eyes still closed, imagining his little arms trying to wiggle out of his swaddle. “Ah!” he says, louder. Okay...sigh... I’m coming.
Sweet is the season of spring: the long and dreary winter helps us to appreciate its genial warmth, and its promise of summer enhances its present delights.
When I open the door to his room, he immediatly stops fussing and smiles. Oh, his smile. I am ruined.
If we do not hoist the sail when the breeze is favourable, we shall be blameworthy: times of refreshing ought not to pass over us unimproved.
This too shall pass. Not only the hard parts, but the sweetness of these early weeks with James. Soon he won’t want to be held so much, he won’t be so easily soothed by my picking him up and holding him to me. Soon, he’ll be moving around, finding his own little way in the world, and I will think of these days when he was so content just to be in my arms.
When Jesus Himself visits us in tenderness, and entreats us to arise, can we be so base as to refuse His request? He Himself has risen that He may draw us after Him: He now by His Holy Spirit has revived us, that we may, in newness of life, ascend into the heavenlies, and hold communion with Himself.
After he’s done eating, he just stares up at me with those bright blue eyes and we study each others faces. With sounds and smiles, we have a conversation. Sometimes I think James is the closest I will ever get to God. I’m convinced of it, actually.
Land That drinks in the rain often falling on it and produces a crop useful to those for whom it is farmed receives the blessing of God.
Oh James, I have never seen the hours of the night like I have with you. 2 am...4 am...6 am. I have never been a morning person, but sometimes I look forward to hearing that first exclamation out of your mouth when you see the sun coming through your window. Such exhaustion. Such abundance. Every day is a new gift, I’m more and more aware of that truth.
Let our wintry state suffice us for coldness and indifference; when the Lord creates a spring within, let our sap flow with vigour, and our branch blossom with high resolve. O Lord, if it be not spring time in my chilly heart, I pray Thee make it so, for I am heartily weary of living at a distance from Thee.
Excerpts are from Morning and Evening by Charles Spurgeon. From the evening of April 24th, the night James was born.