I wake up this morning, early, before the sun. The sound of birds--or maybe just one bird--outside my window has roused me with it's repetitive tweet.
Mother Nature's alarm clock.
I put my earplugs in. I haven't been sleeping with them because we're in a new house. Someone could break in and I'd never know it. As if hearing it from my room would stop it or do any good. I drift back to sleep. An hour later, I'm awoken by a little one in my bed.
"Mommy, I want something."
I try to open my eyes, but they are heavy with the sleep I didn't get.
"Mommy, I want milk."
He means well. He doesn't know it's 6 a.m.
I cannot physically pull myself awake. I try and fail. He gets bored with me and runs off to wake his brother.
A bit later, I wake to the sound of their arguing. Again. This is becoming a morning ritual. Today they're fighting over who can be Mario and who can be Luigi. They aren't allowed to play video games this early, so I'm pretty sure this is role playing going on...
My eyes flutter, but my lids stay down. Sleep is heavy on me today. Finally, I'm awake. I fumble for my glasses and then search for the clock. My body is aching, my head throbs.
The boxes in my bedroom remind me of the disorganization that surrounds me. My heart sinks. I've been falling in love with our new house, but something in the core of me is feeling displaced. I didn't expect it. I thought we'd move, I'd settle, it'd all be smooth sailing.
I walk down the hallway into the living room. Littered with boxes, half unpacked. I peek outside and see Adam's car is already gone. And my stomach lurches. I missed him? He likely knew how many times I'd been awake last night and didn't want to wake me too early.
Why do I feel like crying?
I search for that comfort, that sense of home and come up empty. This pressure to put it all away, to decorate and touch up and make it all ours settles squarely on my shoulders, and while I try to shrug it off I'm convinced it's only then that this knotted ball in my stomach will disappear.
My mind turns to Jesus, who I'm sure has been wondering where I've been. And I know that he's got words for me this morning. Words of comfort that will build me up. And I fish out my journal and Bible from the bag I packed them in. Funny how, in the midst of everything, those two things managed to make it out of the depths before the rest of my distractions.
I pour my coffee and begin to pray. Impressive prayers that go like this...
God, do you remember me?...been a little while...that's my fault. Are you still listening? I think we need to talk...
And, true to his Word, he meets me there, in the midst of the fighting children and the unpacked boxes and he pulls me from the deep.
Just like he said he would.
