The other night as I prepared dinner for my son and myself, I went in to his room to check on his preparations for the next day’s final exams. I found him sound asleep instead, sprawled across the bed with his books and notebooks strewn around him, obviously exhausted from all the reading and reviewing he had to do.
Looking at his peaceful face, my thoughts raced back to 14 years ago, when I first looked closely at my baby Pernell’s face, all cute and puffy, swaddled in baby linen and blissfully asleep. As I watched him from my hospital bed, deep maternal emotions tugged at my heart, drawing tears to my eyes.
I cried silently as my heart murmured a prayer, thanking the Lord for the little miracle I was gifted with.
As I watched him sleeping now, a teenager teetering towards becoming a young man, I feel the same emotions swelling in my heart. Unshed tears stung my eyes, my throat tightening from suppressed sobs. Here is my boy, fatherless at a tender age, yet already he shows resilience in facing life’s challenges.
I tidied up his things so he could have the bed all to himself. Closing the door as I exited the room, I cried silently as my heart murmured a prayer, thanking the Lord for the young miracle I was gifted with.
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