Billy Coffey
Billy Coffey

Nightandloveyou

March 26, 2009  

A recent, and very early, Friday morning:

I hear it through a thick blanket of sleep, soft at first then clearer and stronger. Not the sort of noise one fears at night. Not a crack or a thump or a ring from the telephone. But the sort of noise that makes you wonder where it’s coming from and what in the world it means.

“Free credit report dot com, tell your friends tell your dad tell your mom.”

I grab the remote control and point it in the general direction of the television, thinking that I had dozed off in the middle of whatever I had been watching three hours earlier. I wave it blindly, pushing the ON/OFF button and then smacking the whole thing against my hand because the batteries must be dead. And then I realize that the television isn’t on. The noise, however, still is:

“Free credit report dot com, tell your friends tell your dad tell your mom.”

My head raises, using what can only be described as the human equivalent to sonar to identify the source.

It’s coming from my son’s bedroom.

I pull back the blankets, schlep into the hallway, and stand at his door. The soft red light from his Lightning McQueen lamp illuminates him in his bed. He is staring at the ceiling with his arms raised and his fingers doing some sort of magical dance.

“Hey,” I say.

He jerks and spins and stares at me with a look of terror. He has been worried of monsters under his bed lately, and ghosts in his closet, and the bad guy from Toy Story. I just may be all three.

“Just me,” I promise.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I am.”

“No, you’re singing.”

“Sorry, Daddy.”

“Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy. Nightandloveyou.”

“Nightandloveyoutoo.”

Back through the hallway, back into bed. I pull the blankets over me and roll to my side. Then, just as I close my eyes:

“Free credit report dot com, tell your friends tell your dad tell your mom.”

Sigh.

Back out of bed, back into the hallway, back to his door.

“Hey, bud,” I say.

“Hi, Daddy.”

“Quit singing and go to sleep.”

“Okay, Daddy. Nightandloveyou.”

I turn to leave, satisfied that my tone of voice has said what my words did not: don’t wake me again.

“Daddy?” he says, more to the shadow I cast against the wall than to me.

“Yeah, bud?”

“Mommy says to sing when you’re scared.”

Uh-oh.

I move into his room and onto his bed. “Mommy’s a smart girl,” I say. “Maybe the smartest.”

“She says singing makes the shadows brighter.”

“It does,” I tell him. But I don’t think she meant to sing a song from a commercial, and I’m fairly sure she didn’t mean to sing in the middle of the night.”

“Do you get scared, Daddy?”

I mull that one over, biding a few precious seconds by rearranging his covers and pillow. This is a murky question, one best considered in the light of day when I’m alert rather than the dark of night when I’m-not-so-much.

I weigh my options. Tell him that I am scared sometimes, and that may make things much worse. Because if Daddy’s scared, then there must really be some bad things out there. Things worse than monsters. Don’t tell him, though, and I risk much worse. I risk lying to my son.

Because I do get scared. A lot.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Sometimes.”

“What do you do when you’re scared?”

“Pray, usually.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s even better than singing.”“Does it make the shadows brighter?”

“Better,” I say. “It makes the shadows go away.”

So we pray that the angels will chase away all the monsters. He speaks of the ones in his room, and I think of the ones in this world. Because I know the truth: the ones in the world are real.

We sit alone in the quiet stillness of his room, two people determined to find peace and rest regardless of the shadows that surround us. “It’s not so dark with a father here,” he observes. With me there beside him, rest comes easier. “Nightandloveyou,” he says, and then is asleep.

Back in my own bed, I stop to consider the shadows in our world. I am aware of many more than my son, and thankfully so. I worry about my family sometimes. I worry what will happen next. Tomorrow used to be a word of hope for people. Things would be better then. But I think that too many would rather cling to the present or even the past now. For a lot of us, tomorrow’s just too scary.

Then I remember what my son said. The darkness doesn’t seem to dark when your father is there. Yes. The shadows lessen. Rest comes easier.
I close my eyes and say my own short prayer.

“Nightandloveyou,” I say to my Father, and then am asleep.

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Filed under: living, parenting, trials, truth
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Comments

  • Sherri Watt

    And your father who does not sleep says “And I love you too Billy”

    Great post Billy!

    Blessing!

  • sharilyn

    a wonderful story, billy, and beautifully told. we are all scared little children reaching for the hand and presence of a loving Father… funny thing… tonight i have a friend staying at my house, and she’s had much hard stuff in her life lately–big stuff, scary stuff, stuff that goes “bump in the night” in the real world. as i finish up posting my blog before going to bed, she is tucked into the blow-up bed here in the living room. we’ve had a good evening together… as she is closing her eyes, i laughed and said, “i’ll read you a bedtime story”…and i read your blog aloud to her… as i finished with the “nightandloveyou”, she sighed the final sigh of finding sleep and rest in the place of no shadows where our Father keeps watch………

  • Julie Gillies

    Beautiful, Bill. This played out like a sweet movie scene in my mind.

    From one sometimes scared parent to another – well said.

    Gratefully resting in my Father’s awesome presence,

    Julie

  • katdish

    Seriously…you should be published. That was incredible.

  • Sockrma18

    What a great way to paint the picture of our Father’s love and the safety that only He can offer.

    Your son is ADORABLE.

    And by the way…..I have the song in my head. Thanks. :0)

  • lynnrush

    Awesome story, Billy. I love the part, “The darkness doesn’t seem to dark when your father is there.”

    It’s so true. There Jesus is light. There is no darkness in him.

    Great post. Happy Friday!

  • Lori

    We definitly live in the shadowlands, don’t we. Praise the Father for chasing the shadows away.
    Have a great day and a good night’s sleep.
    Lori

  • Tracy

    “It’s not so dark with a father here,” he observes.

    What a profound and powerful observation from a little guy! Yes, there are some pretty scary monsters out there, but we know that our Father by our side, is much stronger than any ol’ monster. Thank you for sharing more of what you learned. GREAT POST!

  • Billy Coffey

    Becki- I know. I haven’t managed to get that song out of my head yet, either. Stupid marketing geniuses.

  • Billy Coffey

    Thank you, Sharilyn. That was sweet. Made me feel good, too.

  • jasonS

    That was wonderful- that’s all I need to say!

  • manker

    love that about the shadows.. and being scared. No “G-dincidence” I saw this today

    blessings
    gp in mt

  • nAncY

    yes, our hope is in the Love of our Father.

  • Joell

    Let me say that we, in my family, quite frequently find ourselves singing the free credit report dot com song…it is rather catchy!

    How precious are those moments with our kids…I love how God will use them to remind us of such foundational truths. He’s so cool like that!

  • Lore Ferguson

    Thank you. And the same to you.

    I was thinking while I read this post earlier today, wow, I wish I had everyday stories like his. Something so meaningful and small that fits perfecting in our faith.

  • lynnmosher

    Hey, Billy! I agree with everyone else…this is a great post! I loved it. And I agree wit the other Lynn…I love the part, “The darkness doesn’t seem to dark when your father is there.” Beautiful! Blessings to you!

  • Sarah Salter

    I just love how God gives us songs in the night. :-)

    Thanks for sharing this, Billy!

  • Annie

    Just loved this. When my kids were wee ones, they would sometimes have a hard time getting to slepp or would wake up in the middle of the night. My solution was to follow them back to bed and sing lullabies. Nothing better or more comforting for both of us. Now, my youngest son, listens to his IPod when he retires, and sometimes sings loudly along. I hear him as I say a prayer and drift off to sleep.
    Your post also reminds me of the book, “I’ll Love You Forever” by Robert Munsch. Another beautiful example of family.

  • LauraLee Shaw

    Okay, THAT was magnificent…moving…inspiring.

    Anointed.

    Love those God moments that we think are for our kids and they’re actually for us.

    Back in my own bed, I stop to consider the shadows in our world. I am aware of many more than my son, and thankfully so. .
    Then I remember what my son said. The darkness doesn’t seem to dark when your father is there. Yes. The shadows lessen. Rest comes easier.
    I close my eyes and say my own short prayer.

    “Nightandloveyou,” I say to my Father, and then am asleep.

    Amen. Wowzer.

  • Lorrie

    Billy ~ I just love reading about your adventures with the kids :-) This was a terrific post.. full of action, wonder and truths. These days it’s good to remember that we have a wonderful Abba that watches over us and His light is not even comprehended by the darkness.

    Blessings ♥

  • Billy Coffey

    Annie- Sometimes I have to go witht he IPod, too. Some of the things that pop into your head at night are easily chased away by a good song.

    Lorrie- Thank you for your kind words.

  • Rosslyn Elliott

    Beautifully put. The kingdom of heaven is theirs, for that precious time that we shield them from the real shadows. Though I may not be able to go back and live there with my daughter, I find a lot of peace just in witnessing her daily joy, and thinking ahead to the time when we’ll all know it again.

  • Tea With Tiffany

    What a writer you are! Appreciated every word. Loved the exchange between you and your son at night.

    Thanks for stopping by my blog.

    Have a blessed weekend,

    Tiffany

  • Tina

    Billy,
    Beautiful! “Its not so dark with a father here” so true. What a comfort to know our Father is always here.
    Tina

  • Amy Deardon

    Billy, when is your book coming out????

  • Billy Coffey

    Amy- Ha! As soon as I can convince a publisher that I’m worth the price of their paper…

  • Steph

    Very, very cool! Your son is blessed to have a father pointing him to his Heavenly Father! Thanks for stopping by my blog, I know that I will stop by yours more often!

  • Avily Jerome

    That’s a great post! Sounds like my kids. Kids are great for learning lessons from, aren’t they?

    Thanks for the story and the introspection! :)

    BTW, I didn’t want to mention it on my blog, because the person who does it reads my blog, but I have a friend who says “supposively.” It’s easily as irritating as “supposebly,” which I’ve heard, also. :)

  • Steph at The Red Clay Diaries

    Billy,

    That was beautiful. I’m glad I followed your trail back to YOUR blog. I love your writing too. :)

  • Amy

    Billy,
    This is beautiful. I especially loved:

    “Then I remember what my son said. The darkness doesn’t seem to dark when your father is there. Yes. The shadows lessen. Rest comes easier. I close my eyes and say my own short prayer.”

    Indeed, Papa does make the shadows lesson and often go away. It’s a matter of us focusing on His Love (Light) instead of focusing on the Darkness. Something of which I want to grow better at doing.

    Blessings,
    ~Amy :)
    Walking In The Spirit

  • Joanne Sher

    This is marvelous. I’m so glad you found MY blog, so I would come and find YOURS. Wonderful, wonderful message and a completey compelling story (and EVERY time I read that jingle, I laughed)

  • Peter Stone

    Hi Billy,
    That is so cute, your son singing a commercial like that. I thought he must have had a radio on. And what a beautiful observation, “It’s not so dark with a father here.” I was hoping you would tie that in with our Heavenly Father, and you did, in your concluding prayer. Also so true about prayer driving away the shadows.

    My son, almost five now, used to be so sickly that I got into the habit of staying with him till he went to sleep. But once he hit four, I began training him to sleep by himself. After that he would often ask, “Who do I go to sleep with tonight, Papa?” I would answer, “By yourself tonight, little fella.” But obviously the training worked, for his answer was also, “No Papa, not by myself – with Jesus!”

  • gzusfreek

    “It’s not so dark with a father here,”
    This post is beautiful, stunning, amazing. . .

  • Jennifer

    Billy, Great post. When I can’t sleep, “Nightandloveyou” is always the ticket. Our Daddy hears…..

  • elaine @ peace for the journey

    Now those are some spending words (see my comment on LL’s latest post).

    Man, I don’t even know how to unpack this one. Full of truth and hope and light amidst the dark.

    You are a good father, mirroring the grace of our good Father in a way that will mark your son forever.

    Keep to it.

    Glad I hopped over.

    peace~elaine

  • Anne L.B.

    “Dance like nobody’s watching,
    love like you’ve never been hurt,
    sing like nobody’s listening,
    live like it’s Heaven on Earth.”
    ~ Mark Twain

  • Anne L.B.

    Great, Billy. I let my kids read your blog and today I had to threaten them before they’d quit singing, “Free credit report dot com, tell your friends tell your dad tell your mom.”

    Your blog may be G-rated, but I’m thinking you’re still not safe.