I was awake at 1:45 a.m., barely three hours into my night of sleep.
I wonder if that Spanish website will work. I’ll be back to square one if it doesn’t. Need to get the truck oil changed in Whitefish, but that will take two hours –can I afford two hours today? Should I try to do my housecleaning list or just bag it during this crazy week? What can I do that would be special with my kids today. How can I work on lesson plans and be mom? I can’t bear to send my girl to college –feel like I’ve barely enjoyed her this summer as much as I would like. Broil the elk steaks or crock pot? What time do I need to start the homemade fries if I broil the steaks? I wonder if I should exercise first thing in the morning or write a blog post.
A furious squall of thoughts.
Finally I slid out from under the covers and went downstairs. Read the Facebook newsfeed. Checked email. Got the Spanish website login to work –thank the Lord!
When I felt like I had de-railed my runaway thoughts with distraction, I laid down in my usual second-half-of-the-night insomnia location on the downstairs couch. Anxious thoughts started to gain speed again, and I groaned Father…
It was a call for help.
Immediately my mind, body, and soul relaxed into a surprising peace.
“A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped…[Jesus] got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, ‘Quiet! Be still!’ Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.” (Mark 4:37,39)
That is exactly what happened to me from under the quilt.
I went right to sleep.
And to think that the disciples accused Jesus of not caring what happened to them…