The telephone rang as I stood in the dark about to climb into bed – interrupting my bedtime routine that includes a talk with God most of the time.
My estranged wife wanted me to come get the children. She was helping her roommate pack to move him out of the townhouse where they lived. She didn’t want the kids staying up late.
The children wanted to come over.
My sister, whose basement I live in, gave permission.
My wife and I met at a gas station halfway between our homes and the children happily piled in my jeep.
I was a bit grumpy and advised the children to be on their best behavior.
And when it was once again time to climb into bed my son asked to pray for us all.
We used to do that – pray in turns before bedtime long ago when we all lived together and then early on when we parted when the children stayed with me. But recently we hadn’t.
So my son, 10, took it upon himself to spark a revival.
He merely asked God to protect us all and give us a good night’s sleep.