Safety in the Storm

Last night we had a terrible storm. Rain pounding up against the windows. Bright flashes of lightning every few seconds. Loud claps of thunder that shook the whole house. I was afraid the storm would wake the girls.

So as I made my bedtime rounds, I checked on the girls. One...two...three...four times. Each loud thunder clap had me rushing to Shaelyn's room, sure she would be waking in a panic. But she was sound asleep. Rachelle was stirring in the crib, but found her thumb and sighed contentedly. So Michael and I nestled ourselves under the sheets and settled down to try to sleep amidst the chaos out our window.

Not even 30 seconds after our heads hit the pillows, I heard the click of a doorknob turning. And heard the weight of little feet peddling across the hallway. I sat up to see a little pink-clad, piggy-tailed girl emerge tentative in our room. There were no tears, not yet. I crossed the room in two long strides to head them off.

As I scooped her up, she very clearly told me:
"It wraining, Mommy. And thunder and wightning. And I sca-uhed."

Normally one of us (lately me - as Shaelyn is on a huge I-only-love-Mommy-right-now kick) takes her back into her room, and if she's scared or upset, lays down with her for a while until she's calm and/or back asleep. But last night just didn't seem like the night for that. Rachelle was still stirring. I didn't want to be away from her. And for some reason I didn't want our family spread out all over the house. I wanted us all together. Safe in one room. So I said to Shaelyn, "You want to sleep in Mommy and Daddy's bed tonight?"

Well, she was one excited little girl after that. We headed back into her room to get the essentials: a pillow, her red blanket (which used to be mine), her Care Bear (which also used to be mine), her duck, her turtle, her paci, and her sippy cup. Then we packed her in between me and Michael. The lightning continued to light up our room and the thunder continued to crash. And Shaelyn was on a roll of her own.

"I go to church. I wuv nuh-swee. Mommy, dere's thunder. I have uh duck. I have a turtle. I want chocky milk. Chocky milk, Daddy? Ca-uh Be-uh need chocky milk, too."

So she got her chocky milk. And 500 lullabies from us. After 45 minutes, she was finally calm and warm and nestled between me and Michael. All her talking did eventually wake Rachelle, so I got her out of her crib to cuddle up against me. As she nursed, her free hand scratched at anything it could find - my shirt, my chest, the blanket. And soon she was calm and warm and nestled up against me, too.

As my family drifted off to sleep around me, I was left awake to think. To ponder. To pray. To thank my Heavenly Father for this, this beautiful blessing of family. And as I thought of us all snug and safe from the storm in one big bed, I couldn't help but think that this is where we all find safety from the storm. The big storms of life that come crashing down around us, with their blinding lights and unnerving sounds. We run to the refuge of our families. Whether we're snuggled up in one big bed, or supporting one another from thousands of miles away, family is where we find safety. Security. Love. Support.

When I woke up this morning, there were four warm bodies, all pressed up together in my bed. And I felt safe.