I waited patiently for the Lord,

and He turned to me

and heard my cry for help.

Psalm 40:1

Deep in the mists of longer ago than I want to imagine, I woke up every morning to a pair of tiny blue eyes peering over the edge of my bed.  The red headed toddler in a diaper and a trailing  "daddy shirt" didn't make a sound as he crept into my room.

He didn't cry or call out or tug at my arm as he waited.  He just stared in silence until I opened my eyes, then solemnly announced, "Cheerios".  My teasing prodding for  a hello,  a good morning,  an I love you mommy, netted me only a ornery grin and a firm repetition of "Cheerios".

In the innocent faith of a child, he stood in perfect patience.  He held no doubts that my eyes would open, that I would laugh at his antics, that I would get up and get him the breakfast he wanted.

David stood too with his eyes on God, expectant, confident, at least for that moment, that all that he needed was there, poised to be delivered.