While the World Slumbers On

Sleepless nights are rarely what I would call a blessing, but tonight is just that. I am awake, but it is not unrestful. I am still immersed in the peace of this place. The house is still. I can hear the faint, whiffling snore coming from the pile of little boys on the floor. I can hear the hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of the clock on the wall. It is dark tonight; the clouds are hanging low over the trees, making invisible the fabled stars of a northern Michigan sky. The only light outside is the single one on the dock across the lake, and I wonder what tale could be spun about it...if perhaps Mr. Fitzgerald saw a night like this one and was inspired to take up his pen, as well. The deep thrum of bullfrogs' song drifts up from the lake as the world rolls on in peaceful slumber.

In the quiet, my mind wanders to people who have blessed my life with their presence: family, friends, teachers, the friends who invited us here. I can't help but be warmed with gratitude. They have all left imprints on my life, and that they were divinely ordained to do so is undeniable. Oh, what manner of love!