“As a mother comforts her child, I will also comfort you.” ~ Isaiah 66:13
Amanda rocked her infant daughter in the nightlight’s amber
glow, the old wooden chair squeaking with every motion. Outside, rain pattered
softly against the window, a calm rhythm that seemed to hush the world.
Three-month-old Elise gazed up at her, eyes wide and shining, tiny pools
reflecting mystery that Amanda couldn’t yet fathom.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Amanda whispered,
brushing a fingertip along her daughter’s cheek, “I wish you could talk.
Just enough to let me know what stirs your little heart.”
Elise answered with a
soft, precious coo. Her tiny arms reached up as if trying to share a secret her
little mouth couldn’t speak.
Amanda smiled, marveling at how love could feel both fierce
and fragile at once. Each night became a growing expanse of whispered
questions: Is she warm enough? Comforted, safe, cherished? Am I truly seeing
all she needs? The uncertainty pressed against her chest like a second
heartbeat, a tender rhythm where love and worry wove seamlessly together.
“If you could talk,” Amanda murmured, “you
could tell me if I’m doing this right.”
Her daughter blinked,
then, as if sensing her mother’s troubled thoughts, Elise lifted her tiny hand.
It rested on Amanda’s cheek, small, warm, and full of trust.
“You’re fresh from
God’s arms,” Amanda clarified, her
voice catching. “Maybe you understand Him in ways that I’m still learning.”
A fleeting smile
brushed Elise’s lips, tender and unspoken. As if she were sharing a secret only
her mother could feel. Something inside Amanda shifted, an unmistakable whisper
as if God were speaking to her. “Elise doesn’t need to speak. I’m speaking
through her.”
Tears blurred Amanda’s vision as she pressed a soft kiss on
top of Elise’s head, inhaling the newborn scent, as if heaven itself still
clung to her tiny child. In that moment, Amanda understood. Elise’s silence was
enough - full of insight, filled with grace. Every breath, every sigh, every
tiny movement was its own sacred language. One day, she’ll laugh, sing, and ask
endless questions. But for now, her silence is a gift itself.
“Thank You, Lord,” Amanda breathed. “Help
me listen to You through her.”
Elise snuggled closer to
her Mommy, cradled in warmth and trust, as the rain whispered a sweet lullaby. Peace
draped over them like an invisible veil as Amanda rocked, feeling the soft rise
and fall of her daughter’s chest pressed against her own.
It marked a sacred
moment, where each heartbeat, each tender movement, each trusting touch between
them rose became an unspoken prayer of gratitude to their shared Creator.
“Heavenly Father, thank You for this precious child, for the ways You
speak through her even without words. Teach me to trust You with every
uncertainty, to feel Your presence in every moment of doubt. Stay near, please.
Amen
