Every night, before I can sleep peacefully, I have to make sure my kids are still breathing. It isn’t enough to just see them wrapped in their matching princess comforters.

Whatever, jerk, I’m still hardcore. I’ll punch Cinderella in the face.

I need to walk up, put my hand on their back, and feel their deep, peaceful breaths, inevitably followed with the annoyed roll over that comes from their stupid idiot dad disturbing their slumber. I like to believe that they know I’m there, and it helps them sleep easier, even if it annoys them in the present.

Deep breaths. All is at peace. Knowing my kids are safe, dreaming of pudding pops and unicorns. Whatever it is kids dream of, it gives me peace to feel their breath, steady; resting. It doesn’t matter how tough my day has been with both of them. Bella cries and thinks I’m a monster for rushing her to put her shoes on when we’re 10 minutes late already. Makena lipping (not flipping, although im sure thats coming someday) me off for not playing Nintendo 24 hours a day, like a good dad would. It doesn’t matter what they feel towards me or the world around them in that moment. The fact that they are safe, sound, in my care and I can feel their breath. It brings me peace. Most of the time.

I am having a night where the peace isn’t quite so forthcoming. Anger. Frustration . Exasperation might be a better descriptor. Exhaustion. Defeat. Weariness, not of the kind an 8 hour sleep will cure. These nights come once in a blue moon, whatever a blue moon is. Must be rare or something. One of the few things that calms me is knowing my kids are happy, safe and sound. It helps when I remember Gods love for me.

Rarely do I let it sink in enough to give me peace. I live most days running from one thing to the next, unaware of Gods hand on my chest, trying to calm my gasping breath. In my exasperation, anger, resentment, bitterness, he holds me close and says “rest.”

The truth is Gods touch isn’t always so in tune with my life. Rather, I’m not so in tune with his touch. But during nights like tonight, all I can pray for is rest and that tomorrow will bring hope. It nearly always does.

If God loves me the way I love my kids when they reject me, hurt me, run to me for comfort, depend on me for survival; if God really does love me like that, then peace should be the most natural of feelings. My kids believe in my love for them.

My prayer tonight is that I feel Gods immense, Immeasurable, insatiable love for me in the smallest of doses. To feel Gods hand on my back so I know he’s there and can sleep peacefully. I know that’s a small prayer, but a small dose of Gods love is an ocean of my own. I believe it in my head. the idea must make its way to my heart.

Deep breaths. Now go, enter the rest.