When I tucked Daniel in tonight he said he was sad. "What are you sad about, honey?" "I'm sad about Uncle Gus," he stated. My brother, Daniel's Uncle Gus, died when he was 28 years old. He was a young Montana rancher with a wife and a son. He was pure hard work, and tender hearted toward the Lord. Daniel would've loved him. So, as I rubbed son's back, we talked quietly. He'd ask the questions, and I'd provide the best answers I knew. We agreed that it would be so nice to see Uncle Gus in Heaven.

So, the prayers began. Being the momma that I am, I prayed quiet, but I prayed long. I am a momma afterall, and there's much to pray about. There's a little boy, nearly nine now, who needs blessing, who needs instruction, who needs to know that his Mother and Father will always pray for Him.

The breathing became quieter on the pillow next to her, and she was honored, once again, with the privilege of ushering her son into a night's rest at the sound of his mother's voice as she prayed, prayed to a Father of her own, giving thanks, and trusting Him for her own son's future. Unknown to her, but very well known to Him. Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus.