The sounds of their breathing, slow and methodic, surround and envelop like a warm blanket. My job is to keep them safe. To wrap them in protection and purpose beyond the current challenge. To help them know the pain inside isn’t too big to scare me.
It hasn’t always been this way. I run to fear and, trying to be scarier than my fear, I get loud and shocking. Fear of failure, judgement, disregard. Being afraid freezes and doesn’t allow protection. Being afraid makes me look away and not confront what needs to be confronted. Not hold the boundaries that need to be held. Being afraid puts me right where she is right now.
I must set aside my fear for their sake.
The fear is there for me, but as they are guarded by me, I am guarded by Him. My fears and behaviors aren’t too big for Him just like their fears and behaviors can’t be too big for me.
The snoring, a sign of deep rest, a lullaby all its own. They are safe.
