It wasn’t until now, my thirty-sixth year, that I have become a morning person. I’ve never been one to get up before my kids. I’ve always stayed up late, very late. But it was unproductive most nights because by the end of the day, I’m just so worn out. Worn out but not tired.
About a year ago I finally started falling asleep without watching a show as I was drifting off. We don’t have a tv in our bedroom, but my computer or phone would suffice. Often times it was the only way of turning my mind off when Jeff was out of town for work, or settling my soul when the images of Thao in the hospital, his voice, his tears would unwillingly show up as I closed my eyes. It was a coping mechanism. And it was okay.
It was okay because I wasn’t pushing things aside all the time. I was dealing with his death and Jeff’s work and life in general, but bedtime was not the time for that. I began trying to combat it with scripture way back when it began. I memorized scripture. I said the verses over and over in my head but the images, the fears, the anxiety would still filter in and I’d give in to The Dick Van Dyke Show or Gilmore Girls more than I’d care to admit.
Over time and practice and much discipline and prayer, I have come to the point where I no longer need the distraction to let myself sleep. Jeff has a new job now, so of course it helps he is home every night. The phyiscal separation from him was the hardest. But the images, his voice, a single tear, they will never go away. I’d rather be haunted by the memories than not have them at all. I’d rather close my eyes and be able to tousle his wavy hair, lament at his bedside, wipe that tear, than have him wiped from my memory. I’ll take the bad with the good, because that’s love.
It’s completely possible that I am getting better sleep. But my toddler still doesn’t sleep through the night. He’s up at least once, most night two or three times. Sometimes he just needs snuggled because he’s cold. Sometimes he needs milk or to be rocked. Recently he’s been asking for something else like cookies or blueberries in the night. He also talks in his sleep often and sometimes he gets really angry at a sibling or two, in those dreams. And other times he talks about the toys he likes to play with. Obviously, I’m fully conscious for all of these conversations, even when he isn’t. He’s never slept through the night and since he could talk, he stands in his crib and calls my name. It’s true that on more than one occasion he does this as I am getting into bed and it’s also true that I’ve sighed about it. But once I see his face, those pleading eyes and hands reaching out for me, I am reminded that I am the one who gets to hold him. I tell him how thankful I am for him. And then we fall asleep.
So, it is possible that I am just now learning how to sleep well, how to still my mind and calm my soul before falling asleep. It is possible that I’m more exhausted in my current role as wife and mom. I don’t believe that’s it though. I’d like to think the “scripture’s kicking in” but really, I’m learning to rest. Rest in the Lord. Because of HIm. With Him. And he is honoring my effort, even small.
As of now, I wake up before the sun. I have learned truly what a gift the sunrise is. Beautiful and unique every single morning. Mercies new each day. A fresh start. It never gets old to see the sun making it’s way above the trees. Beauty before me, scripture in my lap and a fresh cup of coffee to my side in a quiet house. This has become my ideal way to start my day. I’ve always loved a good sunset (and they are all good!) but now it’s like a double blessing each day I pay attention to both.
As I read through Psalms these past few weeks, the Lord gave me new words, new meaning to the beauty of the sunrise and sunset. A reminder of new mercies, manna for the day, fresh start, yes all those things. But more.
It is good to give thanks to the Lord,
to sing praises to your name, O Most High;
to declare your steadfast love in the morning,
and your faithfulness by night.
Psalms 92:1,2
I’ve journaled many words on just these verses. As I’ve been learning more on prayer, spending more intentional time in prayer and asking the Lord to reveal himself, words will often jump out at me. The Lord has spoken, I mean he really has. He divinely inspired these words and I feel they are just for me in this season.
As the sun rises each morning, I will declare your steadfast love, Lord.
As the sun sets each evening, your faithfulness I will remember.
And in between? In between. I live life. I bless his name as I worship with my kids in the kitchen. I bless his name as I do laundry. again. I bless his name as I water my plants and fix the food and homeschool my children. I get frustrated and things get chaotic and in the midst of the crazy, even when I forget to praise him, he never leaves me.
In the in between, between his steadfast love and faithfulness, that’s where I live. I kiss my husband goodbye. I make breakfast. I reach down to lift the toddler. I step on a lego. I feel the tight squeeze of an eight-year-old. I hear the ornery laughter of a ten-year-old. I grade papers. I play card games with an almost nine-year-old. I text a friend. I listen to the dreams of an eleven-year-old.
I remember when I was eleven. That’s when I thought that someday I’d be content. I’d grow up, get married and be settled in my soul. I’d keep house, have babies and cook dinner. I’d raise chickens and goats and make everything homemade in a perfectly organized house. My husband would come home every night and the table would be set. (I probably watched too much old tv.) But most of all, I’d be satisfied. Never striving for the next thing, never mourning the last.
That isn’t life. Life is full of in between. Life is lived in the in between. In between earth and heaven. In between sunrise and sunset. And so many other things. If you stick around here long enough, we’ll talk about it. And I hope you do.