Lindy Thompson

God, why do you wake me at 1:42 in the morning
after a day of difficult and strong emotions?
On regular days, you let me sleep.
But on struggling days, you wake me at 1:42 in the morning.
Why?

What is it you think I am going to do?
You know I’m too tired to get up and really pray.
You know my brain is foggy, even if I am awake.
1:42 am is not a time for clarity.

Maybe you just miss me.
Maybe you think I am sweet,
swaddled in flannel pjs and blankets,
curled up like a child,
letting myself be lulled into stillness
after a busy day.

Maybe it’s like me going in to look at my kids at night.
There is something precious about a sleeping child,
even if the child is bigger than you.
There is something trustful about rest.
We go willingly into the dark of sleep,
hoping we will be restored to vitality by morning,
allowing the silent work of God every night,
believing God’s mercies will be new every day,
as promised.

Waking up in fear about the future is no fun.
Going from sleeping to bolt awake is jarring.
It affects my days and my capabilities.

If you must wake me, God,
please don’t set my mind loose
like a rabbit among dogs.
If you must wake me,
if you miss me that much,
then come close and kiss my forehead,
smell my hair, stroke my cheek.
Tell me that you love me
and that you are with me,
then take my hand and wait with me
for my rest to return.