Lessons from a Sixteen-Month-Old

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Sixteen-month-old Judah’s come to Kiki’s house to stay


To share our home, to make us smile, and take our hearts away.


To swing real high, and laugh real deep and learn to turn a flip,


To hold my hand, and drink his milk, and ride upon my hip.





And when the day is over and the shadows stretch out long,


He gets a bath, and diaper change, and listens to a song.


He gets his cow and paci too to snuggle in his bed,


But somehow sleeping cozy cannot stick within his head.




His mother brought his sound machine – the one that’s from his home.


She also brought his blanket too, of blue like pure sea foam.


His diaper’s dry, his jammies clean, his pac-n-play’s all smooth.


But since he is not at his home, he cannot seem to soothe.




Last night in bed by 7:00, exhausted did he lie.


But then by 10:00 it started and he began to cry.


At eleven, twelve and one o-clock, assurance he did need


And then again at two and four. At five, we’re up to feed.




He tries too hard to make it work – to make the bed his own.


At home, you see, he knows his bed and has his little zone.


“There’s nothing wrong. You’re surely safe,” we tell him o’er and o’er.


But when we turn to leave the room, assurance is ignored.




I cannot help to think that I am much like Judah boy  – 


Not home on earth, of this I’m sure, and lacking too much joy.


My Father comes to comfort me, to tell me all is well, 


He’s given His whole life for me; His Spirit to indwell.




And yet, I cannot see it, for once He’s out of sight, 


I cry and fuss and pitch a fit; and moan my current plight.


Instead, he bids me to relax and know His Words to me


Are not just fluff, but Truth and Hope and Actuality.




So, Father as You hold me now and tell me that You care,


May I believe Your Words are true, Your love is always there.


O Comforter, please give me, a heart that always faiths,


And rests in Your provision. My soul for You will wait.