Evening Cuddle

Snuggled under the airplane quilt that his Grandma made him and clutching his ratty-looking stuffed monkey, he drapes his arm lazily but deliberately around my neck.  My face pressed against his, I feel him blink.  I taste one of his salty tears, a remnant from the daily hurdle of getting into bed.  His voice meshes with mine as we sing together, words he does not yet understand.  "Hallelujah, grace like rain falls down on me.  Hallelujah, all my stains are washed away."  Every night he picks the same song.  The truths are so profound I can only hope they will filter down into his heart to be understood years from now.  I feel his jaw moving in time with mine as we sing, his raspy voice praising his Creator, his breath tickling my ear in this moment that is never wasted.