You are brave!

“I’m not brave.” That’s what my very young daughter said to me in a sad little voice one evening at bedtime. She’d been having trouble sleeping on her own, and I’d decided it was time for her to do so. 

My reply? “You are brave.” I knew what she was made of; I’d seen her courage in action. “But you don’t even need to be brave,” I added, “because I’m sitting in the same room with you; I’m just not in the bed.” With that assurance, within minutes she was peacefully asleep.

Remembering this brief parental moment helped me a lot on the morning of September 11, 2001. As a New York City resident, I didn’t feel brave when I saw the news reports—or when I had to board a plane a week later. I found that the only way I could feel any semblance of peace was to know I could trust that even if I felt scared for the entirety of that flight, God was there. I wasn’t alone—and I was protected.

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A home maintained by God
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