O my God, I trust in thee
Psalm 25:2
In a dark time, I heard the voice of my son: “I love you, daddy.”
Hearing his little, pure voice lifted me entirely out of my self and my troubles. For the first time, I felt what it was like to be transported immediately from darkness to light. With wondering heart and eyes, I listened for what more he had to say, but that was it. Just “I love you, daddy,” because that was enough.
No, these were not Wyatt’s first words. I heard this 3 months before he was born. I had been praying desperately, alone in my office, trying to find peace about some heavy weights I was feeling, when I heard this precious voice in my thought. Along with the words came the loving assurance that this was the voice of my child.
This promise, hope, assurance of love has been a bedrock for me ever since. To know that I can feel this love, this absolute presence of pure, vibrant life, without yet having any physical proof of that love has been one of the most illuminating promises I have ever felt.
And while I know the circumstances of my hearing those words might seem strange or mystical, I have simply been so grateful for the growing realization that perfect love knows no bounds and if I needed to hear it from my son, who I had yet to meet, then that’s how I’d hear it.
And I know that I am not somehow the special one who gets to be so assured that I am loved. The perfection of that love that I felt – and that I keep learning to feel and trust more and more – was too perfect to be confined to one person. The most radiant part of this assurance of love is that I know you are loved, too.
Loved beyond reason, beyond human sources of love, beyond validations and love languages and history.
We may not know each other and we may never. But I know you are loved, and you have every right to know it too.
