Have you ever asked someone how they're doing, but tossed back at you is an insincere "fine"? This isn't delivered with any kind of malice; you just get the feeling that there is more going on underneath the claim of normalcy. Well I'm here to break the mold and profess that I ain't fine. Perhaps the offshift hours have finally taken their toll or I've finally reached the limits of my so-called relational agility, but staring at the ceiling seems to be a part of my nightly routine these days. Just wishing that they would leave me alone probably isn't the best of options, but secretly, I hope for that. It feels wrong to "wish them away", but helplessness can often lead me to desperate, not so realistic thoughts.
In this life, there will be trials. But is there never to be reprieve, if only for a moment? I think I got a tiny taste of fleeting happiness on Sunday afternoon, when I shot a 37 on the front nine at Deep Cliff. A birdie, along with setting myself up for a handful of pars definitely helped. I can't say my back nine was as good, but for a combined personal best of 79, it was a good day of golf for me. But then coming into the clubhouse, life came back into focus, and once again, its pressures bore down without mercy.
Fortunately for me, God reminded me that He has invited me to share in His joy. Truly, His mercies are new every morning, even after losing in a staring contest with my vaulted ceiling. It's an interesting cycle to experience - bringing stress to bed, only to cast them on my Savior so the morning is new and less burdensome. I hope the load gets lighter with every night of rest; I'll let you know if it's true when I can begin to lift it on my own. Or maybe I'll just let Him carry it until it's gone. My back will thank Him for it.
What's your sleep number?
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