Tenderly Cradled {Life Unmasked}

In the early morning hours, just before the sun rises, one can see a little sliver of the moon tenderly cradling the night hours in its nook.

I stare at it and imagine it has been cradling the night hours of my heart; tenderly cradling the night hours where growing bones ache.

I never dreamed I needed so much growing up when we moved to the Los Angeles area in 1996. I thought I came completed with husband, two kids, and two dogs. I never dreamed that the ache for family and ‘home’ and the things I’ve always known would be such a restless insomniac. I had no notion that the shallow stream of my faith and character would be so insufficient. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I thought the things I already knew were enough.

The problem with the ‘things we’ve known’ is that they are the substance of yesterday. They are the makings of the beautiful, or ugly, for what we needed then, not for what we need now. I want to cling to the old I’ve known. Are not the new and unknown the things that go bump in the night?

But we must grow; tenderly cradled in the night hours where we loose our grip on what has been for what can be. We can toss about and fight off this growth, and I have. Yet, like all children, eventually the heaviness of the darkness weights down the eyelids and we surrender ourselves to the letting go of what was ‘today’ for the tomorrow that will be our new day.

There we lay. Curled up. Waiting. Receiving what we need for tomorrow. Through change, disappointment, challenges, foolishness, loneliness, rejection, betrayal, dismissal, failure, and loss we grow in the thick darkness of the night. {Man, how I have hated these times!} We let go of childish notions of cows jumping over the moon. We realize that it’s never good to run away, even if you are the dish and the spoon. We learn to play fiddle to our own rhythm and be done with the dog laughing at us like we’re sport.

We rest, tenderly cradled in the night hours. We grow, by God’s grace, as He superintends the night hours rocking us and whispering, “Hush child, grow.”

It’s only after the sun has risen and shone that you realize how much you desperately needed the growth that only the night hours can bring. We stretch our arms wide, wider than ever before. We breathe deeply the air of a new day and new ways. We throw open the window, our ears meeting the melody of new mercies chirping happily in the dew-stained trees.

And we give thanks. I give thanks. Thanks for the night hours, schooling me for tomorrow. Thanks for the moon, tenderly cradling me with hope. Thanks for the rising sun, trusting me to try again in what will be called ‘today.’

How about you? For what are you giving thanks?

Today I’m linking up with Joy in This Journey’s Life Unmasked. You might want to take a peek over there and listen to what others are giving thanks for. Even better, maybe you want to share where you’re finding gratitude in what Joy is calling the “threadbare” places in life.

3 thoughts on “Tenderly Cradled {Life Unmasked}

  1. The dark night of the soul is often claustrophobic, uncomfortable, and waayyy too long for our liking. What I love, though, is that even though it doesn’t seem like anything is happening on the outside, when we are still and wait on God, like the butterfly in the cocoon, we are transformed by the waiting, only to emerge later with wings. 🙂

    This is a beautifully written post and totally speaks to me. I get it. I get you. Thanks for writing.

    P.S. I found your blog through Joy’s bloghop. 🙂

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