Dreams and prayers

On Saturday night I didn't sleep well. Two or three times I woke during the night having dreamt about my son. Of course, now I cannot remember the dreams properly, although the first did involve saying goodbye to the dentist (or maybe doctor?) after my son's treatment - I was very cheery and confident whilst he was looking very unhappy about what had happened.

Each time I woke with a certain fear, a sense of foreboding. The dreams all had this sense of things not being quite right.

Thankfully, I remembered the advice from the excellent 'What happens when women pray' by Evelyn Christenson (an old book, but full of everyday truths). Each time I prayed for my son, and quickly drifted back into sleep.

Sunday morning came, along with my daughter jumping into our bed. Again she asked where her brother was; again we explained that he was at cub camp for the weekend. Somewhat forlornly she wandered off to watch TV by herself.

Then the phone rang. It was the cub leader. My son had been sick: another parent was bringing him home.

And I wonder - just wonder - what was happening overnight. As I prayed for my son, was he being healed of something worse, or did I fall asleep too quickly each time?

Thankfully, he recovered quickly: a good four hours sleep in the middle of the day, a lot of water and watching the men's final from under the duvet all combined to return a pink colour to his green cheeks. Thank you, God, for blessing my child.