We held hands through the slats.
“I think of you through the watches of the night. Because you are my help, I sing in the shadow of your wings. I cling to you; your right hand upholds me” (Psalm 62:6-8).
Last night Dallas saw a storm. We lost power at bedtime, scaring Henlee and taking away AC.
So many decisions to make at once. Where and how will we sleep? Does the noise machine have batteries? Should we keep our shoes on? Are we safe?
The night was long. Hen and I “camped” in the bedroom while Aaron watched for news and hoped for power. Barkley padded back and forth between us, his nails tapping out a cadence between the thunderclaps.
My wisdom teeth extraction pain blockers — never mind the heat! — made it impossible for Hen to sleep with me, so Aaron brought her crib in and slid it right up to the side of our bed.
My girl. She reached out to me, she clung to me. We held hands through the slats. We sang songs. We giggled and cried. We tried. We made it.
This morning I can see in relief the hand that held us, that showed up through each of us. The hand that gave us the strength and presence of mind to be present through pain and uncertainty.
It was only a big storm. But ain’t it the truth?