The prize of quietude…

Been a while since my serene and seemingly clear-headed friend insomnia has visited me. But my old familiar friend is back, leading me around the house, starting tasks that I should have done weeks ago and leaving them to be finished months later. It’s amazing how much I have to do to achieve this quiet time. After a day of work, learning, running back and forth, it seems I have to earn the right to ignore the tyrannical call of sleep. Why should I give up the hours that rightfully belong to me? I’ve conquered the kids – their shifting and snores in their beds proves I won the fight over bedtime and successfully filled their day with enough activity to knock them out.

These chores that surround me? I’m thankful I have them to do, ’cause it means I was able to earn the money to have things to clean up and organize. Plus, it has become the one time I’m enveloped in my own activity. I mean, who’s judging the color coordination of my hangers but me? No one, that’s who. I am the master of my closet.

My musical choice, which is on repeat, is Jonathan Nelson’s “My Name is Victory”. It’s a sleeper hit in Black gospel circles. I’ve gotten pretty good at predicting which songs will become hot in radio play long before they become popular. Perhaps that’s because I listen for themes that encourage me when I’m not thinking about choirs or playing for church. If this song tells me at 3 AM that I’m a champion, can tell me that my identity is sown up in Christ even at my most mundane moments, I’m sure someone else can identify with the same sentiment.

As you can probably tell, this post is rambling such as my mind and my body is right now. The only ‘deep’ thought I am entertaining as a subject is the fact that as I near this 34th year of my life, I am treasuring even more the understanding that I’ve come through enough to realize I have one major purpose – to be everything God wants me to be and nothing He doesn’t. I’m shifting into a more settled, but determined phase – where I expect the struggle to be more with being me than doing what people expect of me. Perhaps that’s why these early morning moments have been mileposts in my daily life. Even though I know I’ll pay for the sleepless night with groggy eyes and loss of focus tomorrow, I can remember each time I did so like it was yesterday. The night I was at Boy Scout camp, overlooking the lake at night with the moon as my nightlight in Northwestern Florida. The night in Dunkin Donuts, playing “Trusting God” over and over and writing what became my mission statement – Love of God, Love of Family, Love for Others.

Call it my Jacob moment, wrestling with the angels of desire, purpose, and destiny, shielding me from the silent but giant doubts and fears of success, failure, and the unknown. What makes this a prize? The fact that God, who is up anyway, has a bit of time with me to just watch me being me. He’s nice like that – talking loud enough for me to hear, but not enough to wake up the kids. When I catch that 12 Pm nap and the kids wake me up, perhaps I’ll be a little more ready to do something with the hours I’ve left myself – to be physically what I’ve become mentally and spiritually the night before.

Looking unto the hills,



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