A Song of Love

Leah, on one of her last nights in her crib…..though we didn’t know it at the time.

Since Leah was a tiny baby, I’ve sung to her at bedtime. I have a little bedtime music repertoire made up of songs to remind her how much she is loved by me and, of course, by Jesus. I run through the songs every night. Some nights I sing quickly, because she is in no mood for songs and just needs to get to bed. Some nights I sing slowly and repetitively, cherishing that she is willing to let me cuddle with her in the quiet moments before sleep. Every night, though, I sing.

It’s not always a pretty sound. I’ve sung in choirs and have performed for years, but I don’t do well by myself. My vocal prowess is better demonstrated in a large group, where my flaws are hidden and I can mesh with those more talented. The beautiful thing about singing to Leah, though, is that she doesn’t critique what she hears. She doesn’t compare me to someone she heard on the radio or the way she thinks it ought to sound. She hears her mama singing songs of love to her, and she finds them beautiful.

How do I know? She snuggles in, listening to my voice reverberate in my chest and, periodically, gazes up at me with an incredulous stare, giving me the look one only gives when beholding something beautiful. She hears me and finds it lovely. She sees me and finds me beautiful.

Her enjoyment of my songs gives me the courage to keep singing. Knowing that she is enjoying those moments as much as I am, I am content to sing as long as she will listen. I’ve even been known to get up in the middle of the night and sing her back to sleep. (I have to make sure to turn the monitor by Scott’s head off. He loves me infinitely, I know, but somehow I don’t think he would appreciate my midnight serenades as much as Leah does.) I embrace her and her blanket and, by the glow of the hall night light, I ease her back to a place where she can sleep.

There have been nights when sleep eluded her for hours. Those nights are usually when she is teething or otherwise not feeling well, and knowing her discomfort I am even more willing than normal to sit up with her. I sing……pause for a few quiet minutes…..hum…..pause……sing another song….. They are very sweet moments and ones that I know I will remember for the rest of my life.

During one of those middle of the night serenades, I realized the parallel between Leah’s enjoyment of my singing to her and how God truly must feel when we sing (or talk, for that matter) to Him out of our love for Him. It’s a beautiful thought. He doesn’t critique the noise we make. He doesn’t compare our song to someone else’s vocal offerings. He hears the voice of one who loves Him, and finds it beautiful. That alone makes me want to sing.