Jesus, keep me through the night

safe until the morning light

shines into our window pane

and brings a bright, new day again.

Amen.

The mother tucked in her little boy, running her fingers lightly through his wispy hair. Whispering an extra prayer, she tiptoed from the room. He was already sound asleep.

The clock had just struck three in the morning when the little boy woke. He climbed out of his crib landing with a quiet thump, plodded into his parents’ room on little footie pajama feet, and, unable to wake them, wandered into the living room. The Christmas tree’s glowing lights twinkled softly bringing a delighted smile to his face.

He stood on tiptoe, looking out the picture window to the neighbor’s house across the street. The front door creaked as the little boy pushed it open and slid through the space between doorjamb and door and onto the front step. Oops! He slipped and landed in the snow. But he was up in no time. Snowflakes drifted gently down, crowning his little towhead with white and just touching his eyelashes.

There it was: the blow-up reindeer and an elf beside it! Finally! He’d be able to look at it up close! Snow soaked through his pajamas to his tiny feet, and he hurried to touch the forbidden decoration. It was bigger than he remembered! Reaching out his hand, red with cold, he touched it and – what was that? Did it actually blink?!

The wind picked up and snow skittered across the snowy yards and street. The little boy’s ears burned! Why would they burn when it was cold? He covered his ears with his hands. It didn’t help. It just made his fingers tingle.

A quiet voice whispered, “Back you go, dear one.” The elf? He thought he should go home, but his little feet felt frozen – glued to the ground. He stood there uncertainly as his body shivered. The quiet of the dark night held little to comfort him, and tears began to slide down his cheeks. What could he do? Jesus, keep me through the night, he whispered. He couldn’t recall the next line of the prayer. Jesus, keep me through the night, he repeated. The reindeer and elf stood immovable. He looked over at the pretty tree lights shining through his own home’s window. How he wished he was there now! But his feet! They were so cold!

Suddenly he was back in his living room and the front door firmly locked. He took a few steps and lay down on the floor by the beautiful tree.

He grew inexplicably warm, and it was there his mother found him the next morning; soaked to the skin, but covered and tucked in with two cozy blankets.

And his angel sighed with a tired smile. Safe until the morning light . . .

Original prayer by Mabel J. Cachiaras; Images: lighted-christmas-tree-1708601-1.jpg; selective-color-photography-of-pine-leaf-1263891.jpg; pexels-photo-717988.jpeg