I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve sat in this rocking chair in the wee hours of the morning, resenting every second my eyes were open as I’ve rocked babies back to sleep. I’d let that resentment carry on for the rest of the day as I stumble from job to job. I’d then hold God personally accountable for my (grumpy) actions because if He wants me to do this mothering gig successfully then He really aught to be letting me get a bit more rest. By the time I’ve rocked my baby back to sleep, I’m wide awake, hungry and my head is pounding. So I lay my sleep-thief down, make a tea and watch the clock from my rocking chair until my bad mood has calmed enough that I too can go back to sleep.
If you’d told me 6 months ago that I would come to value these early mornings I’d probably have stared at you blankly, handed you the baby and gone back to bed, because a statement like that deserves no more of a response. Yet here I am, 2am, sitting in this same rocking chair, feeling so very thankful for this early morning.
What I thought was a burden, an inconvenience and a heartless attack on my sanity that would never ever end, has ended up being a few hours of peace, all to myself, some much needed quiet time, reflection time, God time. A perfect example of God’s unceasing patience with foolish people – I’ve been telling Him for months and months just how desperately I want some alone time, some “me” time, and for months and months He’s being trying to give me just that. Not to meantion those precious, tender moments of holding my sleeping baby who is oh so rapidly leaving babyhood behind.
Here in the dark I can sit completely on my own, and drink my hot tea as slowly as I like. In the dead silence I can hear the chorus of frogs at the bottom of our hill where the creek runs. I can hear lambs bleating for their mamas. I can see so much out our loungeroom window by the light of the full moon that is brighter than any city street light. I can here the clock softly ticking, the occasional pop of the fireplace and the soft whispering breaths of those I hold most dear.
Don’t get me wrong, when my baby wakes at 2am I’m, initially, still pretty mad! But by the time she’s asleep again I’m so very thankful for God dragging me out of bed to share this moment with me. I know I’ll be beyond tired when I wake again this morning. By the afternoon I’m sure my patience will have worn thin and that happy hour right before dinner will have me breathing deeply. I’m not perfect. But for the sake of these rare, quiet, God-filled moments that I just can’t get during the day, I’ll accept it.