His eyes betrayed him.
Ryder, our eighteen month old grandson, was active as ever, but his eyes
said he needed to take a nap. Judy and I
had tried to lay him down earlier but he was having none of it. Now it was my turn to watch him. I tried to lay him down next to me. No go.
I let him run around some more hoping his obvious need for sleep would
catch up with him. No luck. Then I picked him up and gently swayed back
and forth while using a noise that sounds like "ssh...ssh...ssh." Some call it shushing. I use it instead of singing because I did not
want to give Ryder nightmares.
I gently put my hand on his head, and gradually moved it
closer to my shoulder until finally it touched.
After a few minutes, I could feel his little body starting to
relax. His arm fell to his side. His breathing grew deeper and his body
finally went limp. He was asleep. I waited a few more minutes before laying him
down in the crib, patting his back and still shushing him until I was convinced
he was long into his nap. I left the
room as quietly as I could.
I have rocked my children to sleep many times, but that was
long ago. I have put grandchildren to
sleep a few times, but again it has been a while ago. Something about this experience hit me like a
ton of bricks. Having a child fall
asleep in your arms is one of the purest forms of love and trust. When a baby falls asleep in your arms, it
means you have surrounded it with a soothing sense of warmth, love, and
protection. Ryder implicitly and
completely trusted me with his life.
The more I think about that simple, everyday experience, the
more I am convinced that for that sublime moment in time we get as close to God
as we are ever going to get in this life.
I believe that is what Jesus felt during his final moments
of life. When He prayed to His Father,
"Into your hands I commend my spirit," Jesus used a line from a
prayer that Hebrew children often prayed before they went to bed. I believe in those final moments, God picked
Jesus up, laid his head against his shoulder, and gently rocked him back and
forth. All the while God softly
whispered in Jesus' ear, "ssh...ssh...ssh." Then Jesus' body slowly relaxed as he drifted
off into God's eternal presence.
That is how I am going to think of death from now on, as
simply falling asleep with my head on God's shoulder, surrounded by his love,
comfort, and peace. James O Renault
