Tonight, about an hour after putting the boys to bed, I heard Merritt begin to stir.

I sighed. This has been a week full of long, wakeful nights. The boys who are (now) typically good sleepers have been rather sick and have both been up more than usual. I waited a few minutes, hoping Merritt would settle himself back to sleep.

As his whimpers turned to cries, I knew I’d have to go check on him. I followed the sound–of what was turning into wailing–to his little bed and felt around for the pacifier. It was already in his mouth. I guess that wasn’t going to help anything. So I leaned over him, gave him a soft kiss on the forehead, and rested my hand on his tummy.

He quieted down. Within seconds, he was asleep again.

All that little guy needed was the gentle touch of a loving hand. He knew he was cared for, and he could rest.

And let me tell you–I could sure relate.

It has been QUITE the week around here, peeps. The boys came down with a viral infection of some sort, giving them fevers, blisters in their throats (although not strep) and a terrible cough. Not to mention making them all-around cranky-monsters.

Combine this house-bound week with the week before, in which we were recovering from two months of absolute running around like a headless chicken, and we’ve been out of the house a grand total of twice in the past two weeks–to one mid-week service at church and to the doctor’s office for the boys on Tuesday.

Well, unless you count trips to the mailbox or playing in the sandbox in the backyard. Which I do or don’t, depending on the moment.

So by today, let’s just say the three of us were getting pretty tired of being each others’ sole company. We were in desperate need of a fresh face. Or four.

When Troy threw a temper tantrum before naptime, warranting a long, drawn-out period of discipline, I was close to my wit’s end. Then, when Merritt wouldn’t fall asleep for a nap, either, I was even closer to my wit’s end. I had about a millimeter of wits left when Troy woke up thirty minutes into naptime, crying for no visible reason. And crying. And crying. Crying so much that he woke up the baby.

That was officially the end of my wits.

I loaded the boys in the car, and started driving. Just driving. No real destination in mind. I thought about heading south and showing up at my friend’s door in San Diego. I thought of heading east and ending up at my parents’. I even had the fleeting thought of just going and going until I got to my in-law’s house in Colorado.

The one place I just couldn’t face again was home.

Because here’s the deal… this whole being alone thing? It’s hard. Really hard.

I ended up driving west as far as I could go, hoping the boys would fall asleep by the time we reached the beach. They were still awake when we got there, so I hopped on the freeway and headed north, while the boys still cried off and on… and I did too. Before I knew it, I was forty minutes from home, heading into my best friend’s hometown.

Wiping my eyes, I reached for my cell phone. The fact that she was actually home on a Saturday afternoon was completely the Lord’s doing.

You know, people say all the time that God reveals Himself more clearly during difficult times. And at the risk of sounding “super-spiritual,” I’ll tell you that it couldn’t be more true.

The Lord has revealed Himself, His love, His reality to me, as never before.

Here’s what Jesus looks like to me right now…

His goodness is allowing my best friend to be near, and be home. It’s having songs play on the radio that He knows I need to hear. Walk by Faith by Jeremy Camp. Praise You In This Storm by Casting Crowns (which I heard for the first time today while driving). It’s having the barrista in the Starbucks drive-thru give me a coupon for a free drink because apparently she decided I’d waited too long at the window. It’s hearing another old song I haven’t heard in several years, making me laugh. It’s mornings when the boys sleep in and I can sit at His feet in the quiet, soaking Him up.

His love is my mom calling right at the moment I’m freaking out to tell me she loves me and she’s praying for me. It’s the arms of my best friend’s mother around me, telling me it’s okay that I didn’t even have time to shower this morning, that she’s been there and everything will be okay. It’s when her dad and her boyfriend steal my keys and give my truck its first real wash since John left. It’s when my neighbor or my dear friend brings me Starbucks out of the blue. It’s my mother-in-love buying a plane ticket to fly out here to help me drive to her house this summer. It’s sweet emails from so many of you, most of whom don’t know me other than through the words posted here. It’s cards several times a week from friends around the country.

His grace is our pastor sending a gift certificate for a car wash in town. It’s my mom and brother being near our home on an errand and showing up on my doorstep with bags of groceries and their smiling faces. It’s my dad watching the boys so I can go to a baby shower. It’s two teen girls coming for a week or two each to help me this summer. It’s boxes of goodies from friends and family… even from people I’ve never met in person. It’s my mom or my cousin staying for the weekend, cleaning my house and doing my laundry. It’s my best friend deciding she’s going to come stay the night to help me with the boys.

His strength… oh, where would I begin with His strength? The thought of that incredible strength is just too much even for words. It overwhelms me and fills me and guides me moment by moment. It comforts me when I hear search helicopters over our neighborhood and I’m alone with two little ones. It enables me to take another step when I’m so tired I can hardly move. It even opens jars with tight lids.

His light… is my two boys’ giggles. It’s playing cars for hours on the floor. Spending even more hours in the backyard, tossing a ball with Troy while Merritt smiles in his walker. It’s curling up on the couch with Troy when he can’t sleep. It’s watching Merritt learning to sit on his own. It’s an unexpected phone call from John. It’s watching the tide come in, or driving along the coast with the salty ocean breeze blowing my hair around my face. It’s bringing scripture to mind I didn’t realize I knew, just when I need it most.

My Lord is real. He is real, people. And He shows Himself to be real more and more every. single. day.