“You Lord, are the light that keeps me safe; I have no
fears." ~ Psalm 271
Jackie was tired. Exhaustion seems to be the burden of
motherhood.
She once believed that after her children were no longer
nursing at night that she’d be able to sleep. But having four kids just takes you from one
phase to another. Fatigue changes but
never quite goes away. It didn’t help
that her husband traveled frequently for his work.
A toddler with a bad dream, a frightening thunderstorm, a
neighbor’s barking dog. Ear, tooth,
tummy aches; the list never ends.
With an exhausted yawn, Jackie heaved herself onto the
couch, searching for some solitude. She
lit a scented candle hoping to center herself.
Fire is almost irresistible; it’s difficult to keep from
getting drawn into its hypnotic spell. She softened her gaze and took a few long,
deep breaths. Rapt by the dance of the
flame, Jackie quickly felt a week’s worth of stress leaving her body.
She soaked in the delicate aroma of the beeswax’s honey
scent. It provided an almost mystic ambiance:
soothing, clarifying, profoundly relaxing.
These rare moments were like heaven on earth she reminded herself.
She didn’t plan on falling asleep. She just did!
Blissful serenity was abruptly
interrupted by an urgent voice. “Jackie,
wake up! Wake up honey,” her father
screamed.
She woke disoriented, confused. Jackie barely remembered falling asleep. Through the black, choking smoke, she could
see a glowing firestorm. The candle had
burnt down and tipped forward, landing in a pile of newspapers and unfolded
laundry.
“Get the kids and get out!” her Dad yelled. “The house is on fire!”
Gathering her wits about her, and her four small children,
they rushed out of the house just as the night’s silence was broken by the shrill
echo of emergency vehicles. They all ran
across the road to the safety of their neighbor’s front porch. Together they watched as their home burned.
Tears stung Jackie’s bloodshot eyes. Not in desperation for the loss of property,
or in gratitude for the safety of her family.
She sobbed for another reason altogether. Why?
Because her father had died 27 years ago when Jackie was
only 9. Daddy’s don’t just love their little
girls every now and then. It’s a love
without end.
Dads, it doesn’t matter if you’re helpless to know what to
do with a baby doll, if you feel totally out of place at your daughter’s
tea-party table or if you can’t figure out your teen’s latest mood swing – your
daughter needs you, probably more than you or she will ever know. So take a deep breath, sip your imaginary tea
. . . and don’t forget to push her chair in for her.
Holy Father, protect us until the evening
comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our
work is done. Then, in Your mercy, grant
us a safe lodging and a holy rest, and peace at last. Amen.
