Sleepless nights are familiar to me. I have never been one
who has had a consistent sleep schedule or pattern. When sleep evades me, I try
to write. To process the reality of my lack of ZZZZZ’s. As a young child I was
usually tormented. Dreams that had me strangled or dying. Waking up in a panic
and screaming for help, only not words or sound could leave my throat.
Helpless, I learned to fight at a young age. I learned to be vigilant in how
and where I slept. If anything, that became my pattern. The ability to wake at
the slightest sound.
After I married, I fought long and hard to overcome. I was
on my way, until my first child was born. Checking on him several times
throughout the night to ensure his safety. It heightened as our second son was
born. I would walk the halls, pacing, trying to tire myself, all the while
praying for protection for my children. Then, as my baby girl was placed in my
arms, I started ten long years of insomnia. Sleeping no more than 4 hours at a
time, my fear controlled me and I was a wreck. I gained weight, had panic
attacks and suffered from deep depression.
I am a great actress and learned how to hide those unsightly
things from those around me, but they soon began to torment me in the silent
moments of the night. I had to break free and so, started a long journey to
recovery. I had to determine the root, the cause and effect. I had to overcome
the fear from the root and then I had to learn to trust the Lord. Trust. Trust
my God. A whole new can opened, that took even more years to unpack. More depth
of insight to understand. Lots of pain, lots of tears, lots of fear.
So here I am. Twenty years later. Up at 4am, unable to
sleep. I am wiped, exhausted, yet I am covered with peace, a gift I never had
before. So I welcome the open eyes to explore my Father’s heart. I lay in bed,
praying, realizing that fear is not upon me. I pray, for my children, my
husband, our finances, our direction. Tossing and turning hoping I will soon be
weary from the thoughts and fall back to sleep.
I glance at the time and see 5:17am. Still awake, still
tossing. I start to pray some more. I start praying for my oldest. The one who
endures great adversity. I dialogue with the Lord about the journey. My heart
starts racing in my chest, I start to breathe hard and before I can catch it,
rage fills my being. I feel overwhelmed with anger and I want to scream. I
start to tell the Lord I am angry, as if He doesn’t know. I share my heart and
my frustration, tell him what I desire for my son.
He listens. I can actually hear Him listening. Peace
surrounds me, but does not penetrate my heart of rage. “What is it that upsets
you the most?” His voice echoes with serene perfection. I ponder. I wonder. I
start to bubble up with tears. What is it? Is it the pain my son has had to
endure? Is it the discrimination? The unfair treatment? Maybe the curses spoken
over my son by unhealed, wounded people? Perhaps the fear that it will break
him and I failed. Then it hits me. I sigh, “It’s not that I am angry because he
has had to endure trials, I am angry because I do not have control to keep it
from happening. No matter how hard I try, no matter what steps I take to
protect him, I can’t control the situation.”
“Awww,” I hear the Lord say. “You are upset and filled with
rage, because you don’t have control.” Of course I argued with Him that that
was not the case. That I was more upset that my son was getting hurt and I couldn’t
protect him from that. I usually don’t take what the Lord tells me without some
sort of rebuttal. I cannot fathom the notion that His answers to my deepest and
most painful issues usually are answered in short, one or two sentence answers.
In fact, that make me mad too. Like this answer.
Essentially He is telling me that if I relinquish control, I
won’t feel rage. I will not be as frustrated and I will be able to rest in His
presence. That resting in Him will secure my peace and peace will help aid in
sleeping through the night. I toss and turn some more, frustrated at the
concept of control. THAT’S IT! I am getting out of bed! I can’t sleep anyway
and now I am fired up.
I walk downstairs and put on the pot of water for tea. I
stir inside. Brew with intensity. I hate not being in control. I hate it. I
will use that powerful word too. I despise the concept. Yet, and that is a big
YET… I know that the choice between God being in control and me being in
control is not even a comparison. I know that God’s way, God’s journey for us,
God’s purpose is perfect. He sees the beginning and the end, and I just have a
little puzzle piece of my life.
The pot starts to hum. I walk over and pour the hot water
into my cup. The bag of black tea and spices starts to permeate the clear water
and steam rises from the cup. I let it steep. Waiting for all the flavors of
the contents to transform the water in to a flavorful beverage. I sweeten with
honey and add some mild to soften the bitterness of the essence. I wait for it
to cool and begin to write. I can smell the sweet spices and can almost taste
them before the liquid ever touches my mouth.
“That is you,” the Lord says to me. “You are the water. I
created you, pure and undefiled. I made you flexible and transparent. Able to
change with your environment. You can be so cold that you are hard, like ice.
Your can be so hot, that your structure changes you and becomes steam. You can
be lukewarm and put a bad taste in people’s mouth. I want you to be extremely
hot and extremely cold.
When you are
extremely hot, you can receive from me and take on the flavors and aromas of my
character, like your tea. When you do, I will add grace and mercy, like the
honey to make life a little sweeter. Then I will add some love and joy to
soften the flavors, so it will be more palatable for those who think I am too
intense of a flavor. 
When you are extremely cold, you bring hope to a dying
world. You are refreshing and lifesaving. The water is you and the pieces of
ice bring a fresh perspective to a cynical world. Cold water calms the
overheating of rage and anger and bitterness. It brings life to those who feel
like they are dying in the dessert. It holds hope for those who thought all was
lost and they would just die, alone in the emptiness of their hearts.
Either way, it is I, who controls the outcome. Not you. I
just want you to be. Just be transparent and able to reflect me. Be available to
be cold and give refreshment and hope or hot and bring mercy, grace, love and
joy.”
A yawn escapes me. I sip on the tea and look at the time.
6:51am. The sun is rising and shedding light on the earth; much like my Lord
rises to the occasion and sheds light on my heart. I process, wonder how I can
let go of the control I have. Tell the Lord I don’t know how.
I can almost see Him smile when He says, “All you have to do
is trust me.”
I take the last sip of my tea, water stained with color. I exhale.
The rage has left my heart and the beating of my heart slows down. The
scripture I learned as a child enters my mind:
“Trust in the Lord, with ALL your heart, and lean not on
your own understanding. In ALL your ways acknowledge him and He will direct
your paths.” Proverbs 3:5 & 6
