Always Kiss Me Goodnight

When we brought the girls to this house over two years ago (TWO YEARS AGO!), I wanted their room to look like it was "their" room and not an eclectic garage sale version of the room they'd had before when we were fostering them.

Even though we were very grateful for all the furnishings that people had loaned us in the early days, we wanted their room to say, "You belong here.  You are ours."


But I didn't have a lot of money to spend on decorating, and I'm pretty thrifty, so I shopped at a local online resale site and bought matching, white, Jenny Lind cribs.  Then I finished them in high princess fashion, complete with tulle crib skirts and matching, handmade crib blankets.

We were given a really cute little blue rocker (courtesy of a sweet friend, Shauna Maness) as well as an adorable bookshelf that Zack insisted we paint lavender.  And then rounded out the room with a garage sale dresser ($5!) that Zack refinished, and a sweet little lamp and nightstand that I paid $7 for at a garage sale and refinished.

Perhaps the greatest amount of my budget dollars were spent on three pieces of wall art from Pottery Barn and an adorable little sign that says, "Always Kiss Me Goodnight."

I was so proud of that sign.  I attached a piece of pink grosgrain ribbon to the back of it, and hung it from a pink crystal drawer pull that I screwed into the wall between their cribs.

Last night while I was rocking them to sleep, (yes, I still do this . . . they need the skin to skin contact, and it helps them sleep better) I looked at that sign and I was overwhelmed, to the point of tears, at just how far they have come.

Two years ago, when meltdowns were a daily part of our lives, they would stand in their cribs and reach up to that cute little pink sign, barely able to reach the edge of it, and they would push it as hard as they could, causing the sign to swing wildly from that pink knob.  I hated that sign in those days.

But I left it hanging there because it was my reminder that no matter how bad their meltdowns were (and they were very, very bad)  I needed to kiss them goodnight.  It was my reminder that they needed me to kiss them goodnight.  They needed my unconditional love and acceptance, no matter how horribly bad their meltdowns had been or would be.

And every night when I would sing made up lullabies to them, and rock them to sleep, I looked at that sign and begged God to heal their little hearts and minds.

And now, when I look at that sign, I am grateful for the healing work He has done and continues to do.

All that to say, I imagine that sign will always hang somewhere in their room.  It's a great reminder of God's faithfulness to us, to them.