I recently wrote, in a comment on Kyra’s post here, that I thought God spoke to us in countless everyday ways if we but allow ourselves the space to hear the message. In the midst of a teary blue funk this evening, God spoke to me through the simple actions of my son.

As I sat on the floor with Nik between my legs so I could give him some medicine through his g-tube, I hummed “You are my Sunshine” to Nik as I choked back tears. Tears brought on by what I don’t really know; I’ve been afraid to look too closely at them. Hormones? Exhaustion? Too many carbohydrate-laden foods which cause me to have wild mood swings? Perhaps all of them; perhaps none of them.  Whatever it is has been simmering within me for a while now leaving me incapable of any but the most necessary tasks of getting through the days.

As I removed the tube from Nik’s tummy, he scooted himself back into my embrace, lifting himself off the floor and onto my lap. He merely rested there a moment and turned his little forehead up to my lips, seeking a kiss. I gently kissed him and wrapped my arms around him, drinking in the scent and feel of his guileless innocence.

Nik turned in my lap, straddling my waist. He placed his little palms on my tear-stained cheeks and turned his pale face to mine. He looked me in the eyes for a brief moment then lowered his head to rest against my breast. Comforting the comforter. Balm for the nettles in my spirit.

God spoke to me today through Nikolas; He told me everything will be alright.