Grateful for a Sleepless Morning

Cooking in the kitchen

Never in a million years did I think that I would be grateful for a sleepless morning, but I am and I almost hope it happens to me again. In fact, I do.

 

 

I had the most beautiful experience a few months ago and I’ve occasionally had it come back into my mind.

It’s always been a tradition in my family to go out and find opportunities to serve. It all started with my grandparents, they taught their kids to be mindful of those around them and would often serve without ever telling anyone. My grandpa had a gas station and he would often fill a tank for a family in need or make sure they had a little food. Grandma would find ways to help people as well.

My parents carried on the same tradition, often lifting another family in their hardest years; providing money or food on doorsteps without the family inside knowing who had done it. They’d ask us kids to help pick out gifts for kids they were worried wouldn’t be seeing any that Christmas and soon enough I was older and found myself wanting to teach my children the same things.

But then something happened, a ridiculously early morning brought a miracle.