Saturday night, after an extended day, and with an over-extended body, I fell into bed about 8:30 p.m. I gave my two middle-schoolers a good-night kiss, explained to them that Mom was turning into a  pumpkin (like Cinderella’s carriage at the stroke of midnight) and then I burrowed into my bed. My last waking memory was hearing my husband read a bedtime story to the girls. My sleep was deep and undisturbed…until 12:30 a.m. Then I was awake.

I was awake. And I was not happy to be awake. The first hour of wakefulness, I tried to go back to sleep. I tossed. I turned. I fussed. But then I realized that my mind was clear as well as awake. Everyone in the house was quiet: no questions, no interruptions, no duties, no schedules, no activities. This wakefulness was a gift: a time to think – to gather my thoughts, a time to pray – to bring my concerns and petitions to God. So I relaxed and I thought and I was thankful. I brought my problems and perplexities, my desires and musings to God. And in the quiet of night, I was calmed and comforted. And I was aware that I had received something from God: something to help me face the busy days ahead.