Dwell in Safety

I was asleep, but my mind was not. In fact, my mind had taken me far from my bed and the warm blanket covering me. Wesley, only inches away, was nowhere to be found.

My own screams echoed in my ears. I watched my own trauma unfold. My body hunched over Aurelia’s as I begged God for a miracle. My daughter was dying. My hands moving, doing everything they could to save her life.

Two years down the road, I already knew the end of the story. This was no dream, it was my reality.

My eyes opened.

I was tucked in bed. Wesley beside me. I was safe, but nothing felt safe. The darkness was heavy.

Lord, bring my mind to peace.

I rolled over, but I couldn’t shake the memories. The wires of my story had been exposed and I wasn’t quite sure how to ground them again.

Finally, I grabbed the remote and turned on light hearted television show to distract my mind and drifted back to sleep.

In the morning, the light shone dimly through the curtains. Behr banged on the door. I let him in and crawled back into bed. His warm little body curled up beside me as he tucked his head under mine.

Two years after Aurelia’s accident, and that dream had made me feel as though only hours ago I had been holding her in my arms. At the time, Behr was a small new discovery in my womb.

A few minutes later Isaiah joined and curled up on my other side. The darkness I felt during the night was almost non existent.

The Lord had given me rest and I woke up with peace in my heart, mind, and body. I was distinctly reminded of the supernatural presence I felt the night we said goodbye to Aurelia. It was as though the Lord himself was walking beside us through every tragic moment. There was peace beyond understanding in circumstances much too great for comprehension.

Anyone who grieves deeply can tell you: the nights are no friend. They can be dark and they are not afraid to haunt you. However, over the years, I have learned they don’t always tell the whole truth.

The darkness, the heaviness, and the grief, it is real, but there is much more to the story. Our dark nights leave out the most important part: God was present and He is more powerful than the grave.

God can redeem our darkest hours. God can restore the brokenness that death surrounds us in. Only God, and God alone can lay us down to sleep and awaken us with peace.

When the stories of my life haunt me, when death pounces, and when sleep does not bring rest, I know—wherever I am, no matter my circumstances—I am safe in the Father’s arms.

And so are you.

Psalm 4:8, “In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.”