Dark and Dangerous ...Part 4 ...Night Watches
possible road to joy: selfless love.
― Peter Kreeft
I can’t remember much of sunday school but I remember one scripture verse about demons—If one believer can put a thousand demons to flight, two can drive out ten thousand.
I don’t know how many demons are oppressing us, but on paper, the odds are on our side if we band together.
I explain this to Cyn and although frightened, she seems encouraged that all hope is nof lost.
I tell her we’ll take turns, one watching while the other sleeps and somehow get through the night
I hold her until we’re both tired and then I lie down beside her and press my body against hers, tightly holding her.
It goes that way through the night. I set alarms on my cell phone for hour watches and then we take turns.
I tell Cyn to watch for signs of distress and wake me if there’s even the slightest doubt.
Thankfully, the vigillance is enough to deter another attack and the demons seem to have an aversion to light.
In the morning, I phone Father Malachi. He’s at our door within the hour.
“Is it Lisle, Father—has she come to torment me?” Cyn wails.
“No Child,” He says softly, so gently, I can barely hear him.
“It’s warfare—spiritual warfare—directed at me, but targeting you.”
“ME? Why ME?” Cyn cries.
The priest speaks patiently, as if talking to a frightened child.
“Jake is defending me and demons are great watchers—they know our points of maximum vulnerability. They could have come after him, but they chose you.”
“Why—because I’m weak?”
“Because you’re Jake’s vulnerability. He loves you, Cyn. They know he’ll do anything to protect you.”
“You mean, give up defending you?”
“Exactly.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen,” she hisses. I watch her face and the set of her jaw. Cyn’s digging in.
Father Malachi looks at me.
I shrug. “She won’t let me give up, Father.”
“He’s right,” Cyn says. “Now that I see what that poor girl went through, I’m not letting the devil win.”
“You’re sure you want to do this?”
Cyn nods, her jaw thrust forward and a defiant light in her eyes.
The priest relents.
He takes a deep breath and then gently but firmly speaks to Cyn giving her instructions,
“I know you’re a believer, Cyn, so now I’m going to teach you how to defend yourself against the wiles of the devil.”
“Will it work even while I sleep?”
“It will,” he says, patting her hand.
Her faith is simple. She believes every word he says.
Cyn is beautiful. I love to watch her sleep—her copper hair spread out on the pillow—her face pink as a child’s.
I’m amazed she married me—she had her pick, but chose me.
Her hair is brighter than any autumn leaf and her freckles endearing, although I can’t tell her that—she’d get embarrassed. She’s like that.
Warm and fed and tucked away from the wet blackness she sleeps, while the wind rattles the window through the lonely watch I keep.
Watch and pray. Watch and pray.
From now on, maybe forever, it will always be this way.