A Bedtime Story

I wrote this a while back, but I found it extra comforting tonight after a long day of hard conversations, much-too-soon goodbyes, and difficult spiritual growth.  Each and every one of those things turned out for good today, but that's why I continue to love this image of Christ!  Especially when my human spiritual warrior is off doing important things in the far away land of London, Jesus fights for me. Always. 

This is A Bedtime Story.

From right here, from this very warm corner of my bed, I can see the bright, two-building skyline of downtown Lexington reflected in my closet mirror. For the moment, only the cold breeze blows through my open window, no shrill – not even a whisper – of the sirens and screeching brakes that seem to constantly remind me that just four stories below a big world hustles and hurries around me, relentlessly and essentially unaware of my one body, one mind, one soul. The quiet won’t dwell long, it never does, but what a blessing it is, a tiny oasis in the swelling tidal waves life often seems to personify.

I like these peaceful seconds. God likes these peaceful seconds too. I know He does, because He likes to come and sit with me in these peaceful seconds so we can share them. He doesn’t usually ask for much, not even for the extra blanket at the end of my very warm bed, and His presence is anything but assuming. He simply tells me stories. He tells me that one time He calmed real tidal waves in a real storm when no one thought He had it in Him. He tells me that He secretly whispered to the girl at Starbucks today to give me my tea for free just so He could see me smile. Actually, He corrects Himself and says that He really paid for my tea today Himself, because He likes to flirt too. After all, He desires to be pursued and noticed just like I do. He tells me of big battles He fought for Joshua and Gideon, and explains that He has used the same defensive strategies in the battles He has fought for me. He tells me that he wants to always fight for me. He tells me He always wants to be my Hero.

Usually when He gets to the part about Him rescuing His lovely maiden, I, His lovely maiden, drift finally and gently off to sleep. Because I know this is no ordinary bedtime story. The sirens may resume and the quiet may once again fade away, but my Love will forever protect me. My Hero will fight for me. Always. And tomorrow, with a smile on His face and sweat from the battle on His brow, He will come and sit with me and tell me another bedtime story, a bedtime story even better than the one before.