The "little girls" wanted to have a sleepover at my house last night...
At 5 am, in the quiet darkness, a panicked, sleepy voice:
I woke, found the voice and its accompanying curled up body across the room,
"Sweetheart, I'm right here. Are you ok?"
"No. My stomach hurts."
"I'm sorry." I rubbed her back. "Can I get you some water?"
"No, I'm okay."
"...Do you think you need to go home?"
Umm... "Okay. I'm sorry you don't feel good."
Back to sleep.
Fifteen minutes later,
"What's wrong, babe?"
"My stomach really hurts."
More back rubbing. More soothing voice.
"Are you going to throw up?"
"...Do you want water? Or some medicine?"
"Can I... do anything for you?"
So I'm thinking,
...Why are you telling me?
Not because I was annoyed- I had told the girls to wake me.
But I was truly confused.
She didn't want water.
She didn't want medicine.
She didn't want to go home.
She wasn't particularly upset.
I sat with her and held her hand for a few minutes. She rolled over and seemed fine.
She just needed to know that somebody was awake and aware.
Almost two years ago now, one morning at Rez, I tore lyrics out of a church bulletin and stuck them in my Bible.
They're still there, tucked in the pages of the psalms...
I just need to know that He's awake and aware.
...He who keeps you will not slumber.
Behold, He who keeps Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord is your keeper.