Late at night. A dark, cold night.
"Mommy." Softly.
Silence.
"Mom-MY!" Louder, more persistent.
"Yes, honey." Sleepy and muffled.
"Mommy, I'm SCARED!" Small and frightened.
"It's alright, sweetheart. I'm right here. Don't be afraid." More awake and alert.
Silence.
"Mommy." Once again.
"Yes, honey, I'm right here." Gently.
"But, I'm STILL scared." Straightforward and honest.
Footsteps. Feet paddling on the hallway floor.
"I'm coming to you." A promise.
Creak of the mattress.
Smoothing and fluffing of the blanket.
Kiss. Hug. Snuggle.
"Can you keep me company for a LONG, LONG time?" Hopeful, expectant.
"Sure, sweety. Sleep, my princess." Kiss again.
Comfortable silence. Heavy breathing.
Creak of the mattress.
"Do you have to go back now?" Awakened. Candid.
"Yes, honey. Sleep tight." Soothing. Another kiss.
Footsteps in the hall. Heavy breathing.
Comfortable silence.
It's my three year old daughter waking in the middle of the night, frightened from the darkness, scared from a bad dream.
But it's also any one of us, anxiously waking up in the cold nights of our lives, fearful of uncertainties, apprehensive about our personal nightmares, calling out in our own small voices, expectantly and knowingly.
To our Creator.
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