It’s the end of a busy, exciting, exhausting day.
The hours passed like soap suds through my fingers volunteering at school, scrubbing toilets, cutting fresh fruit, paying bills, washing loads of laundry, helping with homework, talking through hurt feelings, waiting through soccer practice, preparing a healthy dinner, reading books in children’s beds, saying prayers of gratefulness to a big God, and finally with a kiss and hug for my three turning out their lights.
Making my way downstairs I breathe in slowly. I made it. I did it. “Thank you, God, for another day with my husband and three gifts.” My husband, only a few steps in front, stops at the bottom and waits. Wrapping his arms around my tired body, he softly whispers, “Great job.” He knows and appreciates. He celebrates my life, even on the rather ordinary days.
I’m a dishwasher load and a dozen e-mails away from going to bed when I hear my youngest making her way slowly downstairs. I know each of my children’s footsteps. There’s my oldest who skips down the stairs. My boy stomps loudly not caring who wakes up. And then my youngest who knows she shouldn’t get out of bed so she creeps quietly.
Tiptoeing into the kitchen she smiles innocently at me by the sink. “I can’t go to sleep. I tried and tried, but I just can’t sleep. But now I know why. You didn’t sing me a song. You sing me a song every night, and tonight you didn’t sing.”
Without saying a word I smile and gently take her hand as we walk together upstairs to her dark room. The glow of a nightlight shines faintly in one corner. Crawling into her bed she pulls the pink sheet up to her chin, and turns over on her stomach. Sitting beside her on the bed I stroke her head and quietly sing.
“Turn your eyes upon Jesus. Look full in his wonderful face. And the things of earth will grow strangely dim, in the light of His glory and grace.”
Singing the comforting words again I know sleep is overtaking my tired girl. The song in the night fills her ears and heart, and she knows she isn’t alone. Her peaceful breathing escorts me as I make my way out of her room.
I know about songs in the night. I’ve journeyed down paths darker than midnight when I cried for my Savior to sing me a song. When fear grips my soul and isn’t scared away by pleadings, I wait for Him. His voice, unheard by human ear, penetrates the core of my being with His songs of comfort.
The songs don’t always take away the night, but the melody of love and hope infuses me with courage to rest in Him. “My precious child, you are safe in my arms. I will never let you go. I am the resurrection and the life.”
In the dark and bright sunlight I will listen to my King’s song of life. His song drowns out the explosions of my deepest fears.
Copyright © words and photographs by Jane Carole Stein