10/11/2025
The other night, the Lord gave me a dream.
In the dream, my child had climbed up a skee-ball machine — like one you’d see at Chuck E. Cheese.
He had gotten a little stuck up there.
When I came to get him down, he gave me this sweet little smile — like, “You caught me.”
But as I looked closer, I could see it in his face — he was just about to burst into tears.
I picked him up, held him in my arms, and said,
“Let me see your hands. They look dry and cracked.
We need to take care of them.”
And in that moment, he just melted —
full tears, soft sobs, total surrender in my arms.
The next day, my son came home from school with a black eye and a bump on his forehead.
When I asked what happened, he told me a story that I could tell wasn’t true.
Right then, the Lord reminded me of the dream from the night before.
I realized He had already prepared my heart to see.
He was teaching me awareness.
Not just to see with my eyes, but to discern with my spirit.
That day, I made it my mission to remind my son that he is safe —
that he can tell me anything,
that my arms are a refuge.
Mothers, these moments happen all the time.
But if we’re honest — we often miss them.
When we’re tired, overstimulated, juggling too much,
we stop noticing.
Awareness takes rest.
Awareness takes stillness.
Awareness takes action.
And God, in His goodness, will show us what our children can’t yet say.
Our job is simply to slow down long enough to see it.
