eyes fixed.

You'll find us here at least once a day, Noah and I, curled up in the center of the bed in the darkened bedroom. He is wrapped in a blanket but that doesn't stop him from furiously kicking his little legs and letting loose with tiny screeches of infant indignation. He is so very tired but refuses to sleep. I rub the backs of my fingers across his forehead, kiss his cheek, rub his tummy, murmur softly to him. Soon, soon... His eyelids become too heavy and he is asleep. He'll wake again, though, soon... soon. And so it goes.

When I think he's finally, truly dropped off, I scoot an inch at a time toward the edge of the bed. Is it the creak of the mattress springs, the sound of his brother's voice from across the hallway, or the dog loudly tumble-running down the stairs? Whatever it is, his eyes are open and wild. I know who he's looking for.

I resume my place beside him and he strains toward me. I tuck his blanket back into place, fluff a pillow for my own head, and pull him in close and even closer. I think to myself that surely being crushed up against me like this is horribly uncomfortable, but his reaction to the contact says the opposite. His eyes are fixed on me, his breathing slows and his little hands stop curling and uncurling. He sleeps.

He can never be too close to me... There is no sight more calming than my face inches from his. And even though I have a glass of ice water melting next to a new cooking magazine I was planning on perusing, I am okay with the shift in plans. For now, I am his everything, and I won't say no to it. In fact, I long just as much to be needed- The fibers of my heart vibrate warmly at my children's outstretched arms and expectant eyes.

I need God even more than my little boys need me. And yet, I go... days, sometimes, without acknowledging this need. I can do it without You, I say casually as I change directions and move onto a path where I can't see Him. My eyes are so rarely fixed, sometimes I don't recognize Him.

Christ said, "Father, I want those you have given me to be with me where I am*, and to see my glory, the glory you have given me because you loved me before the creation of the world," but I pass him by on a daily basis, the way I did as a cruel teenager when someone who didn't fit onto my social docket dared to approach me for simple conversation.

What would happen in my heart if I moved close and even closer? To say, "I need You" -to yell it even!- and not go through a single day without my eyes fixed on Him...? I guess there's only one way to know for myself.

*emphasis mine