In the still of the night

“The children were nestled all snug in their beds.” Ah, I remember it well, especially at this time of year. Snow gently falling in the dark of night. Everyone safe at home, warm in their beds. All present and accounted for.

Those days are long gone, but the memory is sweet when I wake in the middle of the night and become aware of the quiet, save for the gentle snoring of my man.

Another Christmas is behind us, come and gone in a flash. But I remember not only Christmas nights, but all the others, when we had children in the house. There were only two of them, big brother and little sister. They were the best of friends, a team of two. They were so sweet when they were asleep.

Oh, they were regular kids during the day, noisy, busy, all the usual. But such sweet little angels as they slept. We would look in on them, cozy and warm in their beds, before closing up the house for the night. We would wish them sweet dreams and give a gentle kiss good night.

If it was Christmas Eve, come the dawn they were up before first light, racing to the fireplace to grab their stockings, which were hung with care the night before, and bring them to our bed for the opening of trinkets and candy, a prelude of things to come once Dad had his coffee.

Around this same time, during their elementary school years, they loved to spend overnights with their grandparents, both sets of them. It didn’t matter. They were indulged at both places. One grandmother took them into her bed to tell stories before going to sleep. There was sure to be a big day ahead, so sleep, for all, was important. The other grandmother got them all sugared up before sending them home. I only found out much later that that grandma let them eat Oreos by the bagful, first taking each cookie apart, leaving one base upon which they would construct a tower of fillings, finally topping it off with another cookie wafer. At that point, they endeavored to eat the “cooky” like an ear of corn. I’m thinking that grandmother swore them to silence, fearing the loss of her status as the cool one.

And as quick as a wink, they were off and out into the world. But into their 20s, and before establishing their own homes, they continued to come home for Christmas, and all was right with my world.

Then one day – grandchildren. As they say, God’s gift for letting our children live through those teenage years. Now we get to be the indulgent grandparents, Oreos in moderation this time around, though. The stockings reappeared at the mantle.

On the early overnights with our first grandchild, we hauled out the crib our own children used. It still had teeth marks where one gnawed while teething, but this baby was just getting started in life. The crib was outdated and probably outlawed by the crib police, but we had the bumper pad to protect her little noggin should she roll too close, and this grandmother wasn’t going to leave her side while she slept. Nothing was going to hurt this gift from God under my watch.

All of a sudden, they’ve both graduated from college and started their careers. We ditched the crib a long time ago. We won’t be needing it. There are younger grandparents waiting in the wings. I do have a pretty comfy lap if and when one is needed, though.

But in the still of a winter night, while the snow gently falls, I remember.