Weirdness

Is it weird to be wide awake at 3:39am? I think it's weird. I don't work a graveyard shift. I don't have small children. I didn't have caffeine before bed. 

Jillian, awakened for the usual pregnancy pit stop, was beckoned by the light and squinting weirdly, said, "Why are you still up?" I explained how I had gone to bed, couldn't sleep and had gotten back up hoping to recapture my earlier fatigue. "Oh....(weird)." Now it's quiet again except for the whirring of a distant bedroom fan. Even the water softener that screeched into action earlier has gone back into hibernation. And here I sit prattling on and on about not sleeping.

So what is it really that keeps the brain awake when the body is aching for sleep? I should ask my son. He thinks brains are fascinating. He also gets insomnia too. *Ha* To have just typed, "He also gets insomnia too" is weird as well, and is at least some evidence of my state of sleep deprivation. 

Now, I have done my share of interceding during these late-night episodes, so I do know that they can have some redeeming value. But tonight, though I could and might do just that, I'm still thinking that it's weird. When my husband asks me tomorrow...well, later, "What time did you come to bed?" I'll explain it all again, insert the requested data, and get that look from him again that says, "You're weird." 

I am weird. This has been pretty well established through various non-scientific means and there are many credible witnesses. But I would love a world where I could be weird in normal ways, during normal business hours. I'm tired of being the Walgreen's of Weirdness.

Rest

Today there is in me this deep ache of soul, and mind, and heart. A longing for rest of every kind. A longing to mold reality into something easier. Those carefree days of childhood. But was childhood really simpler? Perhaps the parts I like to remember. Yet even there I truthfully recall such uncertainty, stifling self-consciousness, family strife, days of dark thoughts and depression. Life always has been difficult...it's just seen in fuller reality as we grow older. Now hard things happen and I ponder them, pray over them, ideally seek to respond instead of react. The Spirit of God, which throughout the years has been taking more territory of my heart, mind, and soul, has more room to reign; to bring wisdom and comfort. Though He brings rest, He also brings a yearning for the next eternal journey where there will be no more sin, sickness, or sorrow. Where life is all of rest.

But this is now and not then. Carefree moments can still abound, but more by conscious choice than un-conscious childishness. Choice is the operative word. Will I choose doubt or faith? Anxiety or rest? Bitterness or forgiveness? Laziness or love? Despair and lies or peace and promises?

As I look back over many years, I see one thing that has refused to be snuffed out - hope. Hope because I have a God and Savior, Jesus Christ who is good and loving and strong. And I write this now to remind my feeble heart that He has always been there. This is literally true in a purely theological sense, but theology also points to a God of relationship. And in this sense He has always been there for me personally. Through those bumps and bruises of childhood. The days of the teenage tortured soul. (I would seem to jest here, but those were some of the hardest times. I still have that Bible that was my life raft during high school and college. Though I was not always faithful, the Lord never let go of me.) The long nights and days of raising children - wanting desperately to always do the right thing and praying desperately for God's grace to make up for my glaring deficiencies - whether they were seven or seventeen. The seasons of wondering if I really could be a wife, wanted to be a wife, wanted to be 'his' wife. Life is real and relentless. But my God is even more real. And He relentlessly pursues me, guides me, comforts me. His love is everlasting and His faithfulness is unfailing.

So today I try and fight this soul that longs to take flight toward all kinds of earthly relief. I pause, mid list, and cry out for the voice of the One-who-spoke-the-heavens-into-place to speak again today. To me. Jesus, only You can touch the deep ache of my heart. You see me and know me. What a comfort it is to know that we have lived this very kind of day together so many times before...and You have always breathed peace and strength to that flickering pilot light of hope. And so I know that today, when I choose to run, it will be into Your arms. You are the only rest that lasts.