This psalm is in a little book of prayers for children that we own. It is sort of naive and simplistic, but I like it. (Maybe that's because I'm sort of naive and simplistic.)
The year's at the spring,
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hill-side's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in his Heaven—
All's right with the world!
Although, if I were writing a utopia-themed psalm, there would definitely be a line in there somewhere about sleeping babies/kids.
There is something radiant and pure about a slumbering child. Maybe this sleep state is so healing because for many children the contrast between sleep and wake is a such a vibrant contrast (aka Kate) and brings a welcomed respite. Maybe it's that the relaxed warmth of a sleeping child against my body reminds me of our sacred relationship. I sense vividly how wholly vulnerable and dependent my little ones are on the caretakers they've been assigned, to shape and format their sense of the world. This plan of parent/child is not random and I am blessed to be a participant.
I wish I were better at distilling the feelings mentioned above and storing them in my "serenity vault." I could really use them at 4 pm when utopia is nowhere to be found and I am about 2 1/2 hours away from having a partner home to help with those little angels. I could open up the vault, draw out the image of my dreaming children and remember who they are and what I am doing.