The 103 fever reddens his cheeks. I see circles under his eyes in the dim light. Quietly, I press my face against his, cup my hands around his fists, and pray, “God, let me take this. Give me this fever.”
The warmth of his body burns a fire in my heart.
And I think of my Savior. Who took my place. Who saw my pain. Who “bore our sins in his body on the tree.”
And I think of my Savior. Who saw me. Who sees me now. Who “has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows.”
He loves me tenderly. He loves me wholly. In yesterday’s pain. In today’s fears.