More Than the Sand

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!

How vast is the sum of them!

If I would count them, they are more than the sand.

When I awake, I am still with you…

~ Psalm 139: 17-18

Happy Kisses

As a little girl, I feared the normal kid things, like: Roman chariots attacking and burning Portland, the house catching on fire, the open closet door at night, getting the chicken pox, getting the flu, burglars, being bombed (we lived by the airport during Desert Storm), the creepy basement with the dark doorway leading who knew where. I slept with slippers on my feet in case there were foot-loving bugs in the bed. Each night I scrupulously cocooned myself with stuffed animals, making sure the side near the scary crack between the bed and the wall was well defended.

It didn’t help that I had the misfortune to attend one really horrible public school for 3 months, during which time I was scarred by the librarian’s ghost story readings. After hearing one story in particular, I added an extra level of protection at night  – there now could be no empty space behind my head.  Thanks to that librarian, my imagination introduced a new ghost to my bedroom’s cast of characters: a pale, wailing woman behind the headboard, rocking….rocking….and somehow, with a pillow helmet, I was safe from her.

For me, night was the time for monsters. Even when bribed I refused to sleep with my back to the door. A witch’s hand might creep slowly up over the edge of the bed to snatch me while my back was turned…or worse – Something Scary might come through the door, so I needed to be watching. 

This was why Dad instituted the Happy Kiss tradition. After I was tucked in with the lights out, I hugged Sarah Doll and waited. Not afraid as long as the hall light was on. That meant Daddy was still awake, still protecting me. And in a little while he would come to check on me and give me one last kiss before going to bed – the Happy Kiss. How comforting to see his familiar teddy bear frame softly shadow the doorway. A memory I can almost reach out and touch…almost.

Eventually I became Too Grown Up for Happy Kisses, but I never outgrew my fears. I find in a spiritual sense I am still afraid to turn my back on the door of my life. I struggle to trust my Father to keep watch over it, to trust Him when He tells me everything that crosses the threshold does so only because He allows it to. And sometimes all seems total darkness; the comforting light seeping under the door isn’t there. I see no evidence of His presence. Is He sleeping? Maybe I need to make sure He’s awake? Is He really keeping me safe?

But unlike my earthly Dad, my heavenly Father neither slumbers nor sleeps. His faithful assurances of love and protection I could never outgrow. He is watching, so I can rest.

“For darkness is as light to you…” Psalm 139:12