Between asleep and awake

My son started yelling at some hour of the morning. I thought he was hungry, and he ate a little, but not much. I sat in the rocker in his room, wrapped my arms around him, and he buried his face into my chest. His breathing leveled, and he rested, he was safe. I felt like a warrior of old, sword drawn, metal glistening, fire in my eyes, nobody would mess with him. Then I realized there were things I couldn't fight, things beyond my "swordsmanship", so I turned and buried my face in my Heavenly Father's chest. My breathing leveled, and we rocked there, the two of us, somewhere between asleep and awake, safe in our Daddy's arms.