I was recently asked to post a “Noah story” on an internet group I’ve been involved with for over 12 years. It’s a really fabulous group for families with “late talking” children. I usually share funny stories about Noah, because he often comes up with such witty comments and observations that are always somehow surprising in their depth and content. The following is one that more typifies life with Noah
than any other, and it’s one of the most humbling ingredients of his life that makes ours so blessed:

When David or I, individually, travel away from home, Noah sometimes likes to come into our room at night and read and fall asleep in our big bed with whichever one of us is still at home. It’s a kingsize bed and very comfy, so there’s loads of room. A few months ago, David was the one who was away, and Noah and I had actually fallen asleep watching movie after a long day.

The thing that happened was not a new thing. It’s actually very common with Noah. He’s always done it. But it hit me with such impact this time…like a message from God. Somewhere in the middle of the night I stirred and bumped into him. He opened his eyes and whispered, “I love you.”

This is what he always does. If I go into his room, as I did the other night, to turn his fan down a notch and cover him with a sheet, he said the same thing…in a whisper. He doesn’t fully awaken…just enough to open his eyes and say it. And I thought,” Wow, this is the thought that is in his head when he opens his eyes…when he first stirs from sleep! This is what comes out of his mouth before any mental editing equipment kicks into gear.” And I thought to myself,”Gee…is that the first thought in MY head when I awaken?” I can’t say that any particularly unloving thought would be in my mind upon first awakening. But are those words the first to get bumped out of my slumber into a first waking moment? Probably not! This is how Noah lives. And this is really how God is, for in His myriad ways, from sunrises to sunsets and then through the spectacular brilliance of shining stars He is always telling us the very same thing. Do we hear? Do we reciprocate? There in the predawn moments of innocent 1/2 sleep, our son, Noah, reminded me, without a moment’s forethought, of all that matters.