Story time

The other night, I was curled up in bed re-reading the last book in the Harry Potter series: "The Deathly Hallows." It is one of my all-time favorite books. The story of redemption, sacrifice, loyalty and truth rings so true.

The Harry Potter series is one that I have always wanted to read to my children. In fact, I can't wait for my kids to take baths, put on their jammies, brush their teeth, and jump on my bed for a bedtime story. I can almost see us taking a year or two to make our way through the whole series, and I plan on reading it with the voices. Maybe even a hand-motion or two.

The other night as I was reading, I got the strangest feeling. It was as if I was piled under covers, sitting between two cute little boys who wanted me to read it with the voices. And strangely enough, I did. Quietly and to myself, I started reading "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" out loud to my sons. It was like they were there, with me, hearing the story of bravery and family, love and battle, hope and death. And for a moment, I got a chance to read a story to my boys.

It was a priceless moment, and as much as I know that it wasn't real, I partly feel like it was. And for a moment, I felt the hope of eternity, the hope that we have in Christ, the hope that someday, I will see my sons.

And maybe even read them a story.