Sunday, May 5, 2013

I turned to look back as I walked out their bedroom door. Clint was leaning over Evee, whispering good-night, pushing the hair out of her face, kissing her forehead... having just done the same to Iris.

As I walked out a picture flicked through my head... My own dad leaning over my bed. One morning, in the hours before I normally woke, I remember waking to a gentle weight on my back, the hand of my father, and to flickers of words, my father's prayers over me.

I remember looking up, seeing him knelt beside me, his soft smile and whisper telling me to go back to sleep. And I did, with such peace in my soul.

I can't tell you whether this happened once or over a number of mornings. I don't know how long he was there on that particular day, what season it was, what else was happening in my life, or how old I was at the time.

All I know is that one morning, probably 25 plus years ago, I woke to my father whispering his prayers over me.

I hold this to my heart.
I carry it with me
as we continue our own journey of parent our little ones...
remembering that it is often what we do when no one is watching that matters.


  1. Thank you for this, Jamie. Tears and a grateful heart for a husband who prayed over our children, and still lifts them to his Father. Much love.

  2. What a lovely memory. Thank you for sharing it. I feel inspired to think back to tender moments with my mother, and perhaps bless her with my words as you have blessed us.