Under my bed, all through my childhood, was a big blue box. It held all my special momentoes. Hidden among the childish drawings, handmade cards, sea shells, report cards, little awards, and an assortment of things that I had picked up along my journey was a crumpled up little handkerchief. I had carried it with me on the very first day of school. A day when I cried and cried, longing for the security of home. My Mom had saved it all those years.
I was a painfully shy, timid little girl - happiest when I was at home or doing something with my family.
I loved the daylight but dreaded the night. My overactive imagination went into overdrive as the darkness fell. Lying in my little bed, strange noises or threatening shadows playing on the bedroom walls would sometimes keep me awake for long hours. Every frightening thing I had seen or heard loomed large in my little mind.
When my Mom and Dad walked quietly down the hall to their bedroom, I began to relax. I snuggled under the covers, listening to their voices behind the wall - gentle night-time conversation - and I felt safe. My eyes closed and I slept peacefully.
So many years have passed since I was that fearful little girl, but I know she has not gone away. She still lives somewhere deep in my heart. Some nights she comes to me - just as I slip into bed pull the covers up and turn out the lights. A ripple of fear races across my soul and all the anxieties and cares, the worries about an uncertain future, cause my heart to race.
Then I "hear" Him walk quietly down the hall and over to our bed. He whispers words of promise that were written across my heart long ago. And I find peace.
"When I remember Thee on my bed, I meditate on Thee in the night watches."
"Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning. for I am trusting You..."
This is a re-post from the archives, because - no words in the tired brain today.