Sleep. She would not come.
- Months into living in my sister’s basement, I found myself awake again. Our bed a mattress on the floor because the frame and box springs wouldn’t fit down the stairs.
- A major financial setback led us to this place — and to the brink of losing our loan for a new house. And yet, on this particular night, I knew I was held by more than my mattress.
- My husband to my right, a dog at my feet, and a cat near my head. All that mattered most to me was here. Together. On that bed. And anywhere we put it down would be our home.
- More than a decade later, I awoke again before full morning light. The cat no longer with us and dogs long since banished from the bed, I am instead sandwiched between my husband and my son.
- The realization of the beauty in this particular bed crashes over me in a wave of contentment.
- All is well. God is faithful. Life is good.
- Which gets me thinking of an analogy I long clung to but had forgotten in recent years…
For the remainder of this post, please join me at Holly Barrett’s Testimony Tuesday.