I awake in the middle of the night sandwiched between my toddler and my preschooler sleeping peacefully. As I listen to their steady breathing and snuggle in the warmth of their little bodies, my heart bursts with gratitude to the Father for blessing me with these two precious little ones.
In an instant, that gratitude is replaced with the all too familiar feeling of panic. What if something were to happen to one of them? How would I ever survive? My throat burns and tears sting my eyes. My heart races with fear and I silently weep into my pillow so I do not wake these little ones that I love so much.
Once upon a time, panic, worry and fear were strangers to me. Then, that hot July morning, I was awakened by a phone call, and they have since become frequent visitors.
"Your father has suffered a heart attack", the voice said over the line.
"Your father has suffered a heart attack", the voice said over the line.
...continue reading at Sorta Crunchy!
