Each of them asked me to sleep in their bed with them, so I went back and forth throughout the night. I had trouble getting to sleep in the first place, so I spent some time praying over one child, and then the other. And then once I was asleep, someone called our room in the middle of the night (wrong number), and that meant a few more sleepless hours--but a few more prayerful hours.
There was something powerful about putting my hand on my son's shoulder and praying that he will not carry burdens he was never meant to bear, but that He will walk in the habit of trading yokes with His Savior whose burden is easy and light. Or even to put my hand on my daughter's head to pray over her mind--the way she thinks about things, the way her mind perceives truth, and the hope that she will commit to her memory the Word of God.
I'm a little drowsy today, but I'll never forget those sweet hours. Definitely worth the sleepless night.