When You’re Waiting for Morning to Come…
I would hear the pitter-patter of his sleepy feet before his voice woke me.
No need to look at the clock on my bedside table– I knew it read 3 A.M.
For years, that was his waking time.
His squinty eyes and slurred speech would confirm that he wasn’t rested, but my three-year-old’s odd sleep rhythms always led him to believe that daylight was running late.
Though the moon sat high in the sky, he would whisper the same question with renewed hope every night: “Is it morning yet?”
“No buddy,” I’d reply quietly, trying not to wake his exhausted Daddy beside me. “It’s still dark outside.”
A shrill moan would slip from his lips. His petite shoulders would sag sad.
“When will morning come?”
“When the darkness disappears,” I’d remind him.
Reluctantly, I’d roll from bed and grab his slender hand.
Like every other night, we would walk across the hallway to the room where his big brother slept. I’d nudge my littlest boy into the bottom bunk, pull his special blanket to his chin, and kiss him goodnight again.
“Stay by me and pray for me,” he would plead, his green eyes searching for mine in the muted glow of the nightlight.
I’d glance at my cozy bed across the hall and waver.“Please, Mommy, just one minute,” he would beg as he reached for me in the near-dark.
I’d crawl carefully beside him and place my hands on his warm head of tousled brown hair.
I’d inhale his sleepy smell and remind myself that this child wouldn’t be little forever.
Dear Lord, I’d murmur so as not to wake my firstborn snoring above us. Wrap your mighty arms around Joshua. Keep him safe. Command your angels to stand guard over this boy, your treasure…
I’d speak softly the scriptures that came to mind as I rubbed his bony back and listened to the steady pulse of his breathing.
I’d will myself to ignore my own cramped legs wedged into the crack between his bed and the wall, would count the stars twinkling bold beyond his window.
And I’d whisper assurance that morning would, indeed, arrive.
No matter how old we grow, it is difficult to wait in darkness.
When will morning come?
I’ve asked the same thing of my Heavenly Father countless times-– as I’ve hovered crib–side and listened for the belabored breathing of my struggling newborn; as I’ve grasped at the fraying threads of a broken marriage, as I’ve buried dreams and wondered if God even cares– these moments are the nighttimes of the soul.
Darkness makes dawn seem so far away.
In Linda Dillow’s classic book Calm My Anxious Heart; she tenderly reminds us that faith is walking in the dark with God, holding His hand.
Savor her insightful commentary on a familiar Bible story…
“In the book of Exodus, we find the children of Israel camped by the edge of the Red Sea. It was night, pitch black except for the pillar of fire God had placed between His people and the Egyptians. Can you imagine their fear?
…{Yet} hidden in the text is the tiny phrase, ‘All that night the LORD drove the sea back’(Ex. 14:21)…
Because it was night, they couldn’t see what the ‘wind of God’ was accomplishing on their behalf…. [But in the morning], they walked on dry ground to freedom.”
When we find ourselves in the nighttime of life, we are wise to remember that God is working even when we can’t see His hands.
Just as He intervened “all that night,” for His chosen people while they clung to one another in fear, He is faithfully at work in our darkness, too.
My small son’s sluggish snores would eventually bring my prayers to a close.
Silently, I’d slip my hands out from under his sleeping head and return to the comforts of my own bed.
The sky would still be black, but the frogs and the crickets were often singing a rowdy song of hope beyond my window. They knew morning was on its way.
Or perhaps, they were watching the Creator of the stars work wonders in the darkness.
As for me, I’d have to wait for morning.
The Overflow:
For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime;
weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.
-Psalm 30:5
It’s been a while since I’ve lingered in this place, and I’m grateful to meet you here once again, friends. I’ve been stumbling around in the darkness a bit lately, praying for morning and trusting that the Son is present even when I can’t see Him. And I’ve been praying for you, too; asking God to be near to you and to spur you on wherever you’re at–whether you are dancing at dawn or waiting in the darkness. May His hope OVERFLOW!
A modified version of this post was recently printed in P31 Woman magazine. If you’re looking for an extra-dose of encouragement, check out the entire publication and be inspired by women like you who are seeking to live for Him.
with Jennifer at Getting Down With Jesus and Tracy for Winsome Wednesday.
I love your reminders of a few years gone by for me. Time in the night carrying them back to their own bed… slipped away so quickly.
I DO keep seeing your name show up places 🙂 (I get the P 31 mag)
Waiting here too. How can I pray for you?
Hi Alicia, so glad to see you back at Winsome Wednesday lovely lady.
God bless
Tracy
This is beautiful, Alicia. Love these thoughts of wonders in the darkness. Thinking about that myself, lately. He is always at work… for our good… even when we can not see. 🙂
It IS crazy how now those sleepless nights feel like someone else’s life… remember once asking my husband, the doc, if someone could DIE of sleep deprivation. I’d gone twelve straight years without sleeping through the night and thought maybe I would never recover 🙂 Glad that the sun does always return! Grateful that the SON never leaves!
The time goes by so quickly and those long sleep deprived nights fade in memory. How precious that you captured one here and yes, I have often stayed up to the wee small hours of the night wondering where the light had gone, when the sun would shine again in the dark places of my life.
Keep up the God work.