Friday Night Blessings

The windows are open and I hear crickets chirping. The overhead fan is whirring softly and the computer hums.  There is an occasional giggle erupting from the room across the hall.  The amazing Rocket Man is sleeping beside me, his breath is steady and soft. I hear the sound of traffic on the main road several blocks away. 

The night is peaceful and comforting.

An hour ago, the laughter in the room across the hall was loud as boys who are no longer little-but not really big-were playing together.  The newly turned 13 year old was on facebook, in a poking war with his Mother and me.  He is feeling his way into adolescence and pushing his limits, as is his way.  As has ALWAYS been his way.  His younger brother is observing and no doubt perfecting  his own act as he is following closely behind.

I think we are in for lots of boundary

pushing in the next few years.

When my children were small, I used to love the hours of the night that I spent awake and alone.  I read, wrote letters, studied, watched movies, sewed, did crafts, cleaned, did laundry and reigned over my house through the night.  Not every night, but many nights I was up past midnight just enjoying the solitude.

I fancied myself a Queen of the Night.

This night reminds me of many nights when I was younger and my children were growing and Friday nights were a special time.  Sometimes, we pulled the sofa bed out in the family room and piled on it while eating popcorn and watching a rented movie on our Beta Max.  There was much silliness, giggling, tickling and finally the  noise would drop off and little heads would nod and they would be asleep.  Their Daddy would fall asleep and I would be up by myself, in the glow of the television with the volume turned down just listening to the three of them breath in unison.  I prayed over all of them on those nights.

 

And I was so thankful for all of them and for our life together.

Things have a way of changing.

The Boys Fantastic are not my own. They are on loan for the weekend, as grandchildren ought to be.  The amazing Rocket Man is not the Daddy from the sofa bed.  That marraige ended poorly.  But Rocket Man has been a kind and good stepfather to my children and is as dear and as loved a Granddaddy as there ever has been.  My children are only small in my memory.  I am no longer that young mother who.

But things have a way of coming full circle, too.

The giggling across the hall has stopped.  The Rocket Man's breathing has turned into a gentle, almost melodic snore...but shhhh!  You mustn't tell him I said that.  He is convinced that I'm hearing the dog (who happens to be sleeping downstairs in the garage).  I find myself once again awake and praying over three precous, sleeping persons.

The cast of characters has certainly changed...including me.

Yes.  Things have changed a great deal since those Friday nights so long ago.  Some of that change has been gut-wrenching, hurtful and hateful.  But the change has brought some mighty wonderful blessings.  Three of them are snoring, in unison, as I listen.

And I am ever so grateful for them and for the life that we have together.

Sometimes, the more things change..the more they stay the same.

My gratutide for my blessings,
for this family, is unchanging. 

Especially on Friday nights as I listen
 to the sounds of a sleeping house.

~Mollianne