It was a rough night. Some nights are like that. It started out with an argument, then another disagreement. Then getting to bed late, followed by worrying. The baby wakes and needs comforting. After he is returned to his crib, all possible shreds of sleep have fled. Lay still, turn quietly so as not to disturb anyone. Too hot - push off covers. Too cold - pull them back up. Now both babies are at the bedside, pulling down pillows to stand on so they are tall enough to climb up and in. Before they are settled, the girl comes in, hair wild, eyes wild. "I just wanted you," she slurs - sleepy, terrified. She slides in, I slide out. Put the drooping babies back to bed, hold her cold little body until she warms and relaxes. Carry her back to her bed, crawl back into mine. The alarm goes off - it's 5:30. Too tired to be bothered or angry about it. Read scriptures with the family, get the early boys headed off to school, stumble back to bed. This time, the sleep is deep and longer. My sweet man takes care of breakfast and lets me sleep. And sleep.
When I wake, I feel better - alive again, even a bit refreshed. The sun is already climbing up in the sky, and I breathe a prayer of thankfulness that I have enough strength to face life. It won't be a high-energy kind of day, but my slowness forces me to be methodical, purposeful, intent. I notice more, think more. Perhaps I ought to slow down more...
and go to bed earlier tonight.
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