We crawl into his twin bed, all three of us, at bedtime. The space is small but never tight. I breathe in the smell of baby shampoo from his blonde head and listen as Mr. Marvelous hums lullabies in baritone. Everything seems safe and quiet when a siren sounds loud outside the window. I cradle his body tighter, thankful that it isn’t one of us who is sick or hurting. I am certain there will be no piercing siren sounds in heaven. Only lullabies and Jesus himself, the Prince of Peace. This babe falls asleep fast, his breathing rhythmic against my chest. I love him so fiercely I think my heart may be breaking and I know that my love is but a fraction of Christ’s love for us. And I am comforted, despite the resounding echo of the siren that threatens to haunt this night.
Mr. Marvelous nudges me (he’s asleep, you can get up).
“Not yet,” I whisper. “Pray for us?”
And he does and I love him for it. He prays for blessing on our children.
I close my eyes and pray for God’s will, but silently beg for my own . . . . life, abundant life, for these sons of ours.
And He speaks back, because I have His words hidden in my heart.
“I have come so that they may have life and have it to the full.” John 10:10
Amen, to that. The best lullaby of the night, loud enough to drown out the sirens.