“Pray for Bob, Daddy”
(From the earliest pages of Nathaniel’s African journal, circa 2001.)
I am quickly developing a favorite time of the day here. It comes at the end, at what we call Tuck-In Time. Not because it means the kids are quiet (well not only for that reason) but because I find them especially sweet as they prepare for sleep. It is a special time for the soul to be alone with thoughts, dreams and worries. I get to know my kids most at this time.
Every night, my staff and I go through the routine of tucking in the covers and pulling the mosquito nets down over the little beds. Then, I go back for individual goodnight-rituals with each child. With my precious three-year-old girl, Ayine, I stick my head back in and under her net to steal one last kiss. And she always pretends to try and get away from me, but her giggle on contact gives her away every time. And, after I turn out the light in the boys
Last night, after all the little rituals were complete, I turned to leave. Then I heard another voice. It was Ivan
Bob? Who is Bob? I started to ask. We don
Then I remembered Ivan
My heart did a quick rewind to my own bedtime thoughts as a child. My worries. My dreams. I remembered worrying about my little sister, Hannah. And how I would contemplate the anger I felt for those who had teased her cruelly. Or how I would laugh to myself about my own big-brother-practical-joke of the day. Sometimes, I would dream about her future, and hope that it would be wonderful. But never once did I wonder where she was.
My children are so needy. Their bodies are losing a war against a vicious disease while their hearts are aching because of the horrible losses already suffered at the hands of this killer.
Some people say that my willingness to help these children is amazing compassion. If they could be with me at Tuck-In Time, though, they wouldn
That
I was never more grateful for those stepping-stones than I was last night, now on the other side of the river, standing in the dark room of our home. I breathed a simple thank you before I walked back over to Ivan