This morning my little guy comes to the door of my room at o'dark thirty and whispers, "Papa, I see Jesus fishin' outside." In a fog I say something to the effect of "huh?" He, hearing my confusion, asks to come in and snuggle and show me what he's talking about. I agree and he climbs up on my bed, standing at my head and looking out the window. He proceeds to whisper that I should join him in looking out the window at the quarter moon where Jesus has, apparently, been fishing all night...but I need to be very quiet so I don't scare him away. I rise to my knees, peer out the window at the waning crescent sliver of a moon and it looks beautiful in the clear night sky filled to overflowing with stars, the faintest of light starting to color the sky a deep, dark blue. Jeremiah says to me, "See Him, Papa?" I do not but that's OK. He does. And in his mind, that's really all that matters right now. I'm just glad I got to share this little moment with him.
