I'm normally restless the night before I travel. Either because of the excitement or the dread of the particular destination and purpose, I toss and turn and my mind refuses to shut off. I have a hard time just laying there trying to will myself to sleep. When I do dose off, I have crazy dreams that startle me awake. Typically I end up just getting on up and starting the day much earlier than normal.
We're driving home today so sure enough, at 4:31 in the morning, I'm wide awake. Every fiber optic in my brain is firing as hundreds of thoughts vie for attention. Unresolved feelings and emotions from the past rise from the dead. Concerns and worries about the future are born and grow. Present realities present themselves. Prayers for intervention erupt. A fatigue sets in. Everything seems worse at night.
My grandmother once told me that she used such nights to pray. Laying there she would call people by name, turning their problems over to the Lord and wishing them love and good things. Sometimes she would do this throughout the night. Often God would bless her unselfishness with sleep.
More turn on the television and mindlessly flip channels or return to something that has already captured their interest. Escaping is better than worrying.
Books on bedside tables are grabbed, lights are flipped on, and a new world is entered while still laying in the bed that refuses to allow rest.
I often walk outside.
At 4:37, I open the curtain and quiently slip through the door. Stars shine upon the ocean. Waves dance to the sand. The sea sings its song. Salt air sticks to my skin. The previous day has been scrubbed clean and a new one is preparing to be born. It is the time of in-between. All is calm ... all is bright ... though there is no sleeping in heavenly peace.
Standing there, my senses are suddenly filled with these things.
Leaning on the rail, I feel small in the universe. The sky is filled with stars and Galaxies. The vastness of the ocean is commanding. I'm reminded of how insignificant I am in the scope of the universe. So are my problems, unresolved issues, doubts and insecurities.
Confidence returns. Hope renews. I count my blessings ... I am loved deeply. My children are all healthy and doing well in their respective endeavors. I have "just a few friends" who have proven that they'll always be there. I'm living where I want to live. I haven't had to steal money from the change jar yet to buy food. Plans are being made for a future that is better than the past. I've had good days and bad days and going half-mad days ... but I'm still here.
"Thank you," I say out loud thinking of my grandmother laying there in bed calling out my own name.
Then I slip back inside and sleep until the sun rises and a new day is given to me.
