Sleep is overrated

Anyone who has small children, did have small children prior to them now being adults, have babysat, or just hang out with kids in general, know that sleep is a precious commodity. Like oxygen for living. As in bread and water for survival. It's THAT kind of necessary. It's no shock to any of you that it goes in stages. Pregnancy to 5 years old is spent with either you pottying or snacking in the night or the 5 year old pretending to need to potty and need a snack rather than stay in his bed.  Two solid hour increments of REM are golden gems we moms cling to. Like finding that rare pearl in the oyster. Age 6 to about 14 level off and sleep comes easier for the family. Except the rare times you find them staring at you, five inches from your face, in the middle of the night, for no apparent reason. This makes Jesus loving moms accidentally want to swear from the heart-pounding fear this causes. Remember, I'm being transparent. Age 15 to 21, you stop sleeping again because a mom can conjure up the most far-fetched situations known to mankind when their kids aren't under their roof.  There's a ditch your daughter is stuck in. And I'm certain she didn't wear a jacket. And she turned her "Find My Friends" app off that dads study like combat maps during an enemy stand-off. Then there's the "someone has kidnapped my kid and I'll be getting a ransom call at any second" irrational fear. Oh, let's not forget the "I taught them better and I'm going to beat them in Jesus' name when they get home because they MAY be making bad choices" nightmare. I can't possibly be the only mother who has these reactions, am I?

Sleep is overrated.  So, here's where it hits home. EVERY time I use my keen ninja skills to sneak out of my room to drink coffee and read my Bible, I seem to be interrupted. That's on the rare occasion that my 5-year old didn't wake me up early by physically opening my eyelids and telling me to use my words, rather than the normal "uh huh" I muster when I'm interrupted from my sweet slumber. I don't care how quiet, cat-like and savvy I am going down the stairs, it's a blaring alarm clock to the child to wake up and speak more words in five minutes than I utter in a day. Seriously, I've memorized all of the steps with creaks in them and I skip the wooden planks in the hardwood floors that may squeak. I'd make a sweet jewelry thief. But to no avail. So, let's face it. Lots of situations keep us up at night: kids, worry, stress, grief and fear. You name it. That's just what we do. Usually when our husbands are snoring and oblivious. Okay, that may sound like a slam. Not intentional, maybe just hypothetically.

Here's what I've come up with in my almost 45 years of life. And it's taken me about 40 of those years to actually cling to this truth. God doesn't work a 9-5 job. He's a 24/7 kind of Father. He sees our fear, intimately feels our grief, has record of every tear and is on duty when we are trying to muddle through life. Lack of sleep is no detriment to him. The more I read He speaks of it in His word often. It's no shock to him that we often soak our beds with tears. That we lay awake wondering how we will be saved from the enemy....whatever that may be for us. I found this nugget this morning between making scrambled eggs, looking for the Wii U, answering questions that no 5 year old should be asking and sips of cold coffee:

I lie down and sleep,
I wake again, because The Lord sustains me.
I will not fear though tens of
Thousands assail me on every side.  Psalm 3:5

I passed over it quickly, but went back and read the footnote. Sleep doesn't come easily during crisis. David's son had gone off the deep end and was gathering his buddies to kill him. That may keep me up at night. Here's the promise I love. When we cry out to the Father, we can rest assured he hears us and this brings about a peace unlike any other. See the pattern? When we have assurance that God hears our groaning, sleep will come. Oh, sweet sleep. So, Mary, let it go, you aren't in control, get comfy and let God do His thing.