Sometimes I can’t sleep. Actually, most of the time, I’m up late for or reason of another.
Saturday night was different, though. I was wide awake thinking of all the people who love me and, more importantly, all the people who love Baby Gray. You see, we had a seemingly uneventful evening at Aunt B and Uncleby’s to celebrate Aunt B’s birthday. As I laid and reflected, though, it was so much more than that.
Baby Gray was showcasing his many talents, and each of the people present–most from Mr. Gray’s childhood and my own–were loving every minute of it. They love our little boy, and they love him well, simply because he is ours. He was the spoiled rotten, cake-eating, Coke-drinking (well, Sprite-spilling), center of attention. He could do no wrong. It was like a yard full of grandparents.
I laid there thinking about how grateful I am for such blessings. I prayed prayers of thanks and praise for the love that is poured out on our family. I prayed prayers of grief for those who have never known a love like what surrounds us and lifts us up.
Two are better than one, because they have a good return on their labor: If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.