Jesus Is My Nightlight

Something weird and a bit unsettling happened just moments ago. Snugly nestled for the night, the house all peaceful and still with Maybell (our accidental canine) tucked in and Sandy at her late-shift place of work, I sighed and laid my head back. All alone. Suddenly from the front of the house, I heard a faint sound. I lifted my head off the pillow and craned my neck to listen more closely and a growing sickness rose within as it dawned on me what it was.

The CD player in the kitchen began playing.

There were the diminutive sounds of a piano at first, then the airy rising of the woodwinds—signature classical sound. Only, I wasn’t enjoying the music. My stomach knotted and my heart raced as I pictured a hockey-masked intruder with murder on his mind having some fun with a handicapped man. Too many gory thrillers from my youth, I know. As I peck this out, the music is still playing and I am still uncertain because this has never happened before. But I think I know what is going on. Sandy must’ve put a CD in the carousel and inadvertently programmed it to play at midnight. No, she is not a prankster, and, yes, she will be horrified to know she caused her husband untold fright. It’s all okay. I’ve got Jesus here with me and He’s my Nightlight (Ps 27:1). But not only that, He’s also my Bodyguard.

I could be wrong, but I think He likes classical music.

G’night…

P.S. The music just quit, and so did my heart. I’m not kidding. Just like that.

P.S.S. It’s now 2:30 a.m. and I’m being serenaded again…well, isn’t that just grand…