Four o’clock this morning seemed like the right time to offer up a prayer of gratitude. And so I did. Half an hour before, little feet came padding into my room, followed by a quiet, plaintive voice.
“Mom? I had a nightmare.”
I sat up and pulled my little one close for a moment, keeping my arms wrapped around him as the fragments of his dream dissipated into the chill of the morning air. Then we got up, and I tucked him back into his bed with an extra blanket on top. Within a minute or two, he was fast asleep again. I, however, was not.
Back in my own room, I curled up under the covers and waited for sleep to come. And as I did, I felt enveloped with a warm sense of gratitude. Gratitude that my little boy knows he can always come to me. Gratitude that even in the middle of the night, he knows that Momma’s arms will be arms of refuge. And gratitude that my Heavenly Father has entrusted me to care for this gentle, yet exuberant spirit. Today, I am grateful to be a mother.
Sarah Elizabeth enjoys being a wife and mother. She resides in a small Southern town filled with rolling green hills and hospitable people. She once enjoyed a life with a slightly faster pace as an award-winning television journalist, and marketing professional, but these days, her life is much more quiet. She writes about her daily observations, experiences with Inflammatory Bowel Disease, chronic illness, and occasionally, her love of Jane Austen. Latter-day Jane is her blog. Click here to follow her on Facebook.