Last night I awoke to the sound of a door opening down the hall. Bare feet made their way toward our bedroom. My head lifted off the pillow to see our eight-year-old son at the end of our bed.

“I had a bad dream,” he said near to tears. Even through the dark, I could see he was wringing his hands.

“Oh honey...” I pulled him closer. He scooted into bed next to me; his body returning to its infant state—knees and chin pulled tightly to his chest. I held him, sensing he couldn’t shake the nightmare replaying in his mind. I hugged him tighter; his fingers dug into my forearm.

For a while, we lay in the quiet darkness. Through his back, I could feel his heart beating franticly.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shared his terror out loud, recalling a horrible nightmare about being trapped in a haunted house and although he escaped, he was unable to save his younger brother. Poor kid.

“I’m so sorry. That sounds awful,” I consoled, confirming that his fear and feelings were justified.

We returned to quietly holding each other. Slowly his muscles became less tense, his grasp on my arm less desperate. His breathing eventually slowed, matching mine.

After a few minutes, just as I began to nod back to sleep, his small voice broke the silence, “I think that if I think of good things—things I like—it will help me stop thinking about it.”

He began to name the good out loud: Kirby Planet Robobot, playing ping pong with his dad, his stuffed dog Stanley, ravioli, and chocolate Frosty’s.

His list was simple, but it was enough. The shadows of fear folded beneath the light of goodness. Two minutes later, he decided he was ready to go back to bed.

The next morning, I asked him if he had been able to go back to sleep, he nodded and smiled, “I just kept thinking about Kirby Planet Robobot and ping pong with dad.”

***

REFLECT:
What is the good you can name today?

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