Faith Like a Child

I have a sweet son.

I have three amazing, and sweet sons, but the one I choose to speak of tonight is Connor, my first born.

Last night, the weather changed on us in an instant.  We went from hot 87 degree days to 60 degree daytime temps, howling winds, and threats for thunder storms.

The boys were in bed at a decent hour...7:30 ish, it did their tired eyes well.

Lydia was in bed shortly after.  As I layed with her for her nightly routine, she begged me to allow her to sleep in my bed, and we went through the normal conversation that is memorized with each inflection of my voice.  I told her that if she would not cry when I left, and would sleep in her bed for a little while first, she would be allowed to come to bed with me later. (This usually means she crawls into my bed anywhere from 3-5am, and I can deal with a few hours of her piercing toes in my side!)

Last night was a bit different.

Routines were done, the kids were in bed, and around 9pm, I heard Lydia outside of my bedroom door, whimpering.  I walked out, hugged her, and let her know that she would need to go back to bed in her room for awhile still.

She sweetly said, "But Mom, I already slept in my bed for an hour!"

I don't know how her little 3 year old mind grasped time so accurately, but I told her, "Yes Lydia, it was literally only an hour!  You need to sleep a few more hours in your bed!"

I then took her to bed, without a fight.

On my way out of her room, I noticed the boys light was on in their bedroom.  Furious that they had disobeyed bed time routine and started playing, I opened the door quickly, ready to discipline my mothering lips away.  To my surprise, Aiden was curled up in a ball, blankets pulled up over his head, and he was sleeping peacefully.  I looked up at the top bunk where Connor sleeps, and his eyes were red, swollen, and full of fear as tears poured down his face.  In desperation, he explained the events which led to his desperate state:

"Aiden just woke up, was running around the room, turned the lights and fans on, ran around again and then just went back to bed.  Then the door opened and closed right away, but no one was there."

I thought of every way I could gently acknowledge his fears but explain them away as well, "Connor, I know you are scared.   Aiden doesn't know what he's doing when he gets up and runs around like this.  We need to get his surgery scheduled and pray that it helps him, but he doesn't do it to hurt or scare us.  The door that opened was Lydia.  She woke up and was looking for me.  Would you like to say a prayer to ask Heavenly Father to comfort you?" (He was still hyperventilating with endless tears.)

He innocently said, "Mom, I already said a couple of prayers to Heavenly Father, and I asked him to send you to me...and He did!"

Indeed, He did.  I was supposed to be working last night, but fate had planned that I would be placed on stand-by for a low patient census, and in that state, I was able to be an answer to my sweet son's prayer.  It takes the faith of a child to believe Heavenly Father was calculated in performing that little miracle...and both Connor and I have the faith of a child to acknowledge His hand!  I am ever so grateful for my children and the great lessons they teach me daily!

As for Lydia, she walked into my room at 4:15 am...as I was on my second hour of restless insomniac eyes...and she whispered, "Mom, I slept for a few more hours already!"

"Yes dear, you did!  Come here," I whispered, and we both drifted off to sleep for a "few more hours"...literally!