You Snooze, You Lose
11/21/2014
For me, waking up early is a tough sell. If there's coffee
involved, I may get up for a hot cup on a cold day. If there's espresso
involved, it's pretty likely I'm already dressed, or planning to get that way
quickly.
Having to wake up early kind of stinks. I share a room, due to the small space afforded at my mom's place; and a bed with my 4 year old son. The kid is a bed hog, a master cover ninja, and he does it all in his sleep. He can spin a full circle in less than an hour, and push me, his nearly six foot tall plus sized mama all the way to the edge of the bed.
Having to wake up early kind of stinks. I share a room, due to the small space afforded at my mom's place; and a bed with my 4 year old son. The kid is a bed hog, a master cover ninja, and he does it all in his sleep. He can spin a full circle in less than an hour, and push me, his nearly six foot tall plus sized mama all the way to the edge of the bed.
Sharing skills aside, he's a great little snuggler. He'll reach
his hand behind his head to check for me. He'll pat me and then go back
to a deeper state of sleep. He’ll bury his little feet and arms under me and wrap
his little arms around me, and most mornings, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Occasionally, he'll mumble something important - orders to his other superhero friends, or transformers he might be dreaming about.
My favorite is when he gets the giggles in his sleep. Nothing lifts my heart higher than the sound of his laughter. It's rapid-fire machine gun delivery of joy in a waking state or short bursts of giggles while he's sleeping.
Today I didn't want to get up. Well, if I'm honest, most days I don't want to get up. Today I was especially resistant.
Noah had stolen all of the blankets and was wrapped up like a little baby burrito. He'd managed to lay his head on top of my hair, preventing me from moving without disturbing him. My body ached from the cold (since a cute little boy had stolen my covers) and from having to stay in the same spot for the entire night at the far left edge of the bed.
I stood and looked down at him, fascinated at how one tiny person takes up so much space, makes such huge disastrous messes, and fills my heart so full with love. I decided to take a picture of the boy I could barely make out, tucked into the layers of blanket, comforter, stuffed animals and pillows. I took a shot. Looking at my phone I noticed tiny lines of white light shooting across the digital camera's view. I kept shooting, trying to catch a glimpse, to capture one of them, but nothing. Then I thought perhaps I'd catch something on video.
I hit record hopeful for some quality video of what I was seeing on screen.
The result is what you see attached. I took a second video, skeptical, but the results were the same. I thought perhaps I'd bumped something, or maybe there were dozens of tiny little light bugs flying around the room. I really couldn't explain it except for the idea of what previous experience had taught me.
Maybe they were in fact
orbs. Orbs are believed to be a visual/digital trace of spiritual
energy. I did have an overwhelming sense of love around me at the time I
took the videos but I just attributed that to the deep love I feel for my
child. Perhaps the specks of light captured on video were simply
that. Some weird quirky trick of the light. Or maybe it was simply
unexplainable phenomena after all.Occasionally, he'll mumble something important - orders to his other superhero friends, or transformers he might be dreaming about.
My favorite is when he gets the giggles in his sleep. Nothing lifts my heart higher than the sound of his laughter. It's rapid-fire machine gun delivery of joy in a waking state or short bursts of giggles while he's sleeping.
Today I didn't want to get up. Well, if I'm honest, most days I don't want to get up. Today I was especially resistant.
Noah had stolen all of the blankets and was wrapped up like a little baby burrito. He'd managed to lay his head on top of my hair, preventing me from moving without disturbing him. My body ached from the cold (since a cute little boy had stolen my covers) and from having to stay in the same spot for the entire night at the far left edge of the bed.
I stood and looked down at him, fascinated at how one tiny person takes up so much space, makes such huge disastrous messes, and fills my heart so full with love. I decided to take a picture of the boy I could barely make out, tucked into the layers of blanket, comforter, stuffed animals and pillows. I took a shot. Looking at my phone I noticed tiny lines of white light shooting across the digital camera's view. I kept shooting, trying to catch a glimpse, to capture one of them, but nothing. Then I thought perhaps I'd catch something on video.
I hit record hopeful for some quality video of what I was seeing on screen.
The result is what you see attached. I took a second video, skeptical, but the results were the same. I thought perhaps I'd bumped something, or maybe there were dozens of tiny little light bugs flying around the room. I really couldn't explain it except for the idea of what previous experience had taught me.
The hopeful part of me wants to hope that it was a spirit party. A loving hello from the other side that left traces of the existence of life after life, the space of the unexplained after we leave. I did ask PaPaw to watch over his little buddy. I think maybe he was doing just that.
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