As we leaned over his bed and said bedtime prayers, his hand slowly drifted up, fingers open.
For the first time, my boy, ever so gently, caressed my face. (Previous attempts had quite a punch behind them due to the movement disorder.) This was entirely different and sacred.
Thank you Jesus for the miracles every day!
The laughter, the controlled and tender gesture from son to mother. This new territory that we live in while sisters flit around in fairy costumes and climb doorways….I’ll take it. I will gladly dwell in this place.