This morning, my soon-to-be six-year-old, Jonathan, who is soon-to-be way too old for any kind of cuddling, climbed into bed with me. A regular part of his morning routine. I mean morning stupor. (He takes after his dad. Not a morning person.)
After several minutes, I told Jonathan he needed to get up and start his day. He turned to face me and said, "Noooooo, I wanna stay here with youuuuuuuu. It's so cooooooozy..."
My heart soared to the heavens when he touched his little nose to mine and whispered gently something he hasn't whispered for over a year now.
I gasped, savoring every nanosecond, hoping to capture the sound of a precious little voice whispering a precious sentiment I knew I would probably never hear again.
Then I remembered God's promise, recorded in my Sad Sunday blog post of the night before. I marveled. Rejoicing did come in the morning!