The Shirts

When Marlea was born, she had a hard time going to sleep in her crib. I became desperate and thought maybe if she could smell me in her crib she would go to sleep. So I gave her my shirt. I would put it under my pillow during the day and at night I would give it to her. It worked a little at first, but what really happened was that Marlea became deeply attached to the shirt. When Kira was born, one of Marlea's main concerns was that Kira needed a shirt too. So I gave Kira another one of my shirts. Both shirts were from Jockey and had the same design and feel. Kira likewise grew deeply attached to her shirt. There was no sleeping until the shirts were in bed. Many a night we had to hunt around the house, empty bags, go through the toys until we found the precious shirts. They were lovingly stroked at night, cuddled close, even gently wrapped around dolls. When the soft padding of little footsteps were heard in the middle of the night beside our bed - we could count on it that the shirt would be along. If it wasn't, of course we had to retrieve it. The shirts went along on trips, Friday nights at Grandpa's house, and comforted the heart anytime. When Kira grew old enough for a pillow, each night she would carefully drape her shirt over the pillow. Without fail when she came out in the morning, she would be holding her shirt. If I would remember, I would hide them under the pillows during the day to avoid the evening search. That shirt is now in my bed. Like it comforted Kira - it comforts me. It's a piece that was hers that I can touch. Every night I carefully arrange it under my head. Sometimes I put it over my heart. Many a night I have used it to dry my tears and muffle my sobs. It goes with me on trips, often stuffed in my pillow. It looks out of place in my bed - like a stranger that shouldn't be there. To anyone else it would look like something I forgot to hang up. To me it is Kira's shirt and I wouldn't be surprised if it would stay there for years. Like Kira I even fear losing it. I cherish it and am obviously attached to it.

Every once in awhile in the morning I would hear loud screams erupting from the girls' bedroom. Upon investigation it was almost always the same problem. One blamed the other for stealing their shirt. They felt the same and in the dark you couldn't tell the one was blue and the other red. It created motivated fights complete with hysterical screams, thrashing arms and legs, and passionate words spewing out of the mouth. A thing as simple as a light usually solved the gigantic problem. You would have thought it was a life or death situation. Just like the girls needed something they could touch to feel secure when Mommy or Daddy wasn't holding them, so I cling to this red shirt - fervently awaiting when my eyes will see my heavenly Father.

Please pray that we would be open to God's leading and desire, and continually claim His grace in our lives.

Marylu and Merlin, Marlea, Anna