Graf # 5

After Christmas I moved home to stay with my folks until I leave for Chiropractic College next year. The process of condensing my worldly possessions into one bedroom, a spare room and the back porch was a daunting task. Most of the spare room was already filled with junk I had collected through my adolescent years so it was necessary to pick through my childhood treasures and pare them down to the bare minimum. In the process I came across a picture which I have had since I was a small child. It is of a little boy in blue pajamas, holding a teddy bear while kneeling down to pray. The words of the plaque say: Now I lay me down to sleep... When I drew this plaque out of the box in which it been stored for many years, a flood of memories washed over me, reminding me of why this, of all my childhood keepsakes is so priceless.
I have belonged to the same church all of my life. As a young child however, the building in which we held services was an old converted horse barn, made into a small theater, transformed into a sanctuary. There were two sections of seats bisected by an aisle leading from the door of the church to the altar, which stood in front of the platform.
One night when I was very young, I was curled up in a seat, sleeping peacefully through a particularly long service. I was awakened suddenly by a piercing scream followed by the slamming of the church door. I remember rising in a sleepy haze to see a creature whom I thought at the time was certainly the devil himself, staggering down the center aisle of our church. His hair was long and wild. His face was dirty and tortured looking and there was foaming spittle running from his mouth. The screaming which had first startled me from sleep continued while he wove his way to the front of the church. At the altar, he began to curse and claw at the partition that stood in front of the platform. The man was quickly subdued and removed from the sanctuary but he had left an indelible mark in my young brain.
For many years following this incident I was terrified of the dark. I was certain that somewhere in the recesses of the night, this creature was waiting to get me. Each night my mother would gather the six of us children together for Bible reading and prayers and then tuck us into bed. Being the only boy, I had a bedroom to myself, while my sisters shared the two remaining upstairs bedrooms. I was so scared of the dark that my mother would come to my room with me once the girls were in bed and kneel down with me and together we would pray, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. God bless Mommy and Daddy, my sisters and Peter. Amen.” At the close of this simple prayer I would climb into bed and my mother would remain kneeling at the foot of my bed, praying until I fell asleep. Often I would wake several times throughout the night, but always the form of my mother would be kneeling at the foot of my bed and she would pray with me until I fell back to sleep.
I’m not sure when my mother ever slept. She woke us each morning, cooked us breakfast and said morning prayers before driving us and the neighbor children to school. Each night she waited to pick us up from school and attend our needs. I finally outgrew my fear of the dark, but I never outgrew the comfort my mothers prayers brought. Even now when I am troubled, my mother is there to pray with me and help me through.
I may never have children of my own but I keep this plaque as a reminder. If someday I should be a father, my prayer is that a portion of my mothers spirit will be bestowed on me. I am the luckiest son alive and if I have inherited even a small piece of my mothers devotion to God and her children I know all will be well.