Early bedtime… Fist pump! Mama needs self care. Evening rituals performed. Vitamins taken, water sipped. Good night kisses, quick warm cuddles. A sigh of relief against the soft duvet and smooth sheets.
But alas! It was not to be. A toss, a turn, a quick trip (or 5) to the loo. A slather of lotion, another sip of H2O. Another toss, another turn. Another hour passed by. Insomnia. The faucet creaks, the bathtub gushes, generous amounts of lavender bath salts sink into the depths. Slip into warm bliss. And think…
“God? Do I need to pray? Or write?” A quick pat of terry cloth on steaming skin, the padding of bare feet. A Bible, a blanket, a mug of tea…
This post emerges…
Today was hard, God. This week was hard, but today? Freaking hard. I’m exhausted, God. Sometimes I hold my head up and make it all look easy but I’m just done tonight. I know you’re good, and faithful, and just. And I know, somehow, that on the back of all this pain, we’ll look back and see the growth and the goodness. But tonight, I ache. Not just for myself. But for the many who hurt and are even now crying themselves to sleep. Be with the cancer warriors, and their caretakers. Give them strength, fortify them with peace that passes all understanding. Jesus be near! Surround us with your love tonight. Wrap us in a lullaby.
Amen.
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