Sleeping cold

My husband's father was an alcoholic most of Sam's life. He began drinking heavily when Sam was a baby and finally kicked the awful disease when Sam was in his 30's. One Christmas Eve, Sam and his brother and sister set out to find their father after months of not hearing from or about him. They visited all his favorite haunts: the bars, the port, the railroad yard where the homeless lived, various underpasses and eventually found him in one of Houston's large parks. He was sleeping on a bench under a newspaper in freezing weather. He was dead drunk, almost naked (he had only his underware and socks on), and had not bathed or eaten for many days. Needless to say, their father was very glad to see them!-----One of my favorite memories of my Granny Tucker's old house in Anson is going to sleep on a frosty night in her huge bed. She had warmed the sheets with an iron (the old fashioned kind one warms on a fire), and I crawled in under a very heavy thick quilt. It was heaven. I have always enjoyed what I call "sleeping cold"--having the air outside crisp and cool while I lie bundled up and warm in a blanketed bed. -----Obviously "sleeping cold" meant something else to Sam's father--the absence of a bed, of any kind of warmth, and of any feeling that he was loved and cared for.----Father, bless those children and adults who have to really sleep cold tonight. Send someone in your name to warm and care for them. Give me opportunities to participate in that ministry.