Sleepless Nights

My eyes open to the rhythmic thud-thud-thud-thud of little feet, accompanied by the swish-swish of a diapered bottom. I throw back the covers and roll out of bed to intercept our daughter at the doorway, before she can climb under our covers and get too comfortable. I pick her up, and she snuggles against me sleepily. I carry her back to her room, tuck her under her own flowered blanket, hum a song, and kiss her head. Then I stumble back down the hallway to my own bed.

Ten minutes later, I hear the thuds and swishes again. Another sleepy snuggle, another hummed song, another kiss on the head.

Half an hour and three trips later, I finally tuck her into bed for the last time of the night. Slowly I sink back into blessed sleep. But then I feel a soft tap-tap on my check.

I jump and my eyes fly open to see that a little boy has appeared silently at the side of my bed. “I’m scared,” he whispers.

Back out of bed and down the hallway. He’s getting too big to carry now, but I still tuck him under his red quilt, pray with him to remind him that Jesus is with him, and hum another song while I rub his leg.

Back down the hallway to bed.

Five minutes later…

Thwack. Thwack-thwack. Thwack. The baby boy in the pack ‘n’ play beside my bed is kicking his tiny heels down into his mattress. His breathing, once silent, becomes noisy and irregular. I roll out of bed again, pop his binky into his mouth, and drop back into my bed, praying and hoping he’ll fall back asleep.

Silence…but only briefly. Then the breathing once again becomes noisy, and the sound gradually intensifies into a cry. Out of bed. To the couch. Twenty minutes later he is sound asleep, tummy filled and diaper changed.

I crawl under my covers, fighting back tears of pure exhaustion, debating whether or not to turn off my alarm. Those few precious minutes alone with Jesus before the kiddos awake are what carry me through the day. But yesterday I dozed off in my chair with every sentence I read.

I leave the alarm on, and hope I don’t hit snooze too many times. Then, almost instantly, sleep.

Can anyone relate? Perhaps, though, it’s not little people keeping you awake at night. Maybe it’s sickness, or pain, or an unfriendly work schedule, or just plain insomnia. Or maybe, you are getting plenty of sleep, but illness still saps your body of strength, and you drag through each day, exhausted.

I love Psalm 103:13-14 “Just as a Father has compassion on His children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear Him. For He Himself knows our frame; He is mindful that we are but dust.”

He is mindful that we are but dust. He knows we are weak and frail and needy. What comfort!

But far too often, I myself forget that same truth. I expect to be superwoman, with a long list of tasks I expect to accomplish. But reality interrupts and I become frustrated. I have taken more upon myself than my compassionate God desires from me, and I have attempted to accomplish them in my own strength.

So God reminds me of my weakness. In reality, He’s been doing that every day of my life. The fact that we need sleep reminds us that we as humans are frail creatures. I love how John Piper puts it:

Sleep is a daily reminder from God that we are not God. Once a day God sends us to bed like patients with a sickness. The sickness is a chronic tendency to think we are in control and that our work is indispensable. To cure us of this disease God turns us into helpless sacks of sand once a day.

Isn’t God so good to build in that daily reminder? On top of that, certain seasons—sickness, raising little ones, etc—intensify that sense of need.

I NEED GOD.

I need Him to grant me the strength to face each day and each task.

I need His wisdom and direction to choose how to spend the strength He grants.

I need His grace to gratefully accept the sleeplessness and weariness and weakness as His gift to me, a blessed reminder of how essential it is for me to abide in Him.

I need Him. When I recognize it, when I ask Him, (and often even when I’m oblivious to my need!) He sustains. He enables. He stoops to help. And He keeps on reminding.

Isn’t He good?

“My soul, wait silently for God alone, for my expectation is from Him.”

Psalm 62:5

“For You have been my help, and in the shadow of Your wings I sing for joy. My soul clings to You; Your right hand upholds me.”

Psalm 63:7-8