being still.

There have been many things that have forced stillness, or in some cases idleness, upon me in the past. But nothing quite like a sleeping baby can thrust me into a time of being still. I mean that physically as well as mentally. I've been meaning to write again in the space for a few days, but not until now - in the midst of needing to prepare for this evening, make dinner for a husband been away for three days, and wash the long-neglected pans in the sink - does the weight of her sleeping body on me keep me where I am. She is tired and needs this rest, but she also sleeps deepest and best when sleeping on my chest, or on me in some way. I suppose my warmth and my pulse against her little form is a comfort to her, and so I stay. Stay here in the sweet moment, regardless of the things I need to do, and just let her sleep. I will cherish the times I chose to sit in stillness with her, rather than bustle off to the things I think are important at the time. The dirty pans have waited days anyway, what's a little more time? Time to watch my little angel sleep again, to memorize the rounds of her little cheeks and her tousled nearly-there hair - all the things that will change so quickly as she grows into the woman God created her to be. It's worth being still for her, and I'm never idle as long as I'm memorizing her.