When I became a mother, one of the things that amazed me (among the trillion things there are to be amazed about motherhood) was the fact that I was never suprised or even the least little bit startled when I was woken up in the middle of the night by a sick child.
It’s hard to explain, and unless you are a mother who has also experienced this, you may have a hard time understanding what I mean. But it’s almost like you were expecting to open your eyes and there in the darkness beside your bed, see a child standing there. Maybe he was weeping quietly or simply saying “Mommy, I don’t feel good”.
I’ve just never been surprised. Seriously. I can not think of a time that my sleep was interupted during the night by one of our boys when I felt the least bit startled. And there have been times when I’ve been sleeping pretty soundly and the little hand shaking my shoulder could have given me quite a scare. But it didn’t.
I’ve never understood it. I’ve only been thankful for it. Thankful that God, in His infinite wisdom, (that has always been there, but I keep catching glimpes of) saw fit to prepare me to be a mother all the way down to such a small detail as this. There have been times when I’ve opened my eyes in the middle of the night, knowing that I was going to be face to face with a little boy who needed comforting either because he was sick or he had had a bad dream.
At 2:30 am the other night, G opened my bedroom door. I was already awake and even before he entered the room, I knew somehow that he was there. He had not felt well before going to bed and had gotten sick to his stomach earlier in the evening. Now you can say that given all those facts there was a pretty good chance he was going to be up during the night. And I would say you were right. But I still believe God had me awake and ready to care for my son.
It’s the kind of thing He would do.