The Rocking Chair at 2 AM

Elena's son had colic for the first three months. Every night around 2 AM, she'd lift him from the crib, settle into the oak rocking chair her mother had given her, and begin to hum. Not because it always worked. Not because she had the energy. But because she couldn't help it. Even exhausted, even with spit-up on her shoulder, she'd look down at that red-faced, screaming boy and feel something rise in her chest — a fierce, irrational gladness. She'd press her lips to his forehead and sing old hymns she barely remembered the words to. And somewhere between the second and third verse, his fists would unclench. His breathing would slow. He'd go still against her heartbeat.

Zephaniah 3:17 says the Lord your God is in your midst — mighty to save. But the prophet doesn't stop there. He says God will rejoice over you with gladness. He will quiet you with His love. He will exult over you with loud singing.

That's not distant theology. That's a Parent in a rocking chair at 2 AM — except this Parent never tires, never falters, and the song never ends. The Almighty who holds the galaxies in place holds you close enough to sing over you. And His song has the power to quiet every storm raging inside your chest.