A few months ago, Rosie the Beagle decided that 3:30AM was a completely acceptable time to wake me. Now, you have to understand I’m not a great sleeper. I’m not even a remotely good sleeper on my best nights. So, most nights, I’m just sinking into sleep about 1:30. Two hours later, that deep unsettled feeling that comes over you when someone is staring at you as you sleep, pulls me from slumber. Two big, sweet, intelligent chocolate brown eyes are inches from mine as Rosie stares into my face awaiting my cognizant presence. Once she has it, the morning rounds of potty-breakfast-potty again begin. By 4:00AM, Rosie is once again settled into bed and snoring softly while I am left wide awake and wondering how appropriate it might be to add some bourbon to the dog bowl every night.
This morning, after Rosie was snuggled back into my pillow, I sat contemplating the silent stillness of my home, silence being relative as Christian radio plays in my house 24 hours a day. So, in my (almost) silence I thought of the peace I find in these moments. Nothing changes once the sun peeks over the horizon; the house remains in the same state of slight chaos with clothes piled on the Hope Chest (We’ll have to discuss my feelings on Hope Chests at a different juncture. I mean, for what are we hoping? A man to come rescue us. We already have that, and his name is Jesus. There has to be a better name!). This morning’s coffee cup set down somewhere I didn’t remember that I’d placed it 10 sec after I’d done so. Packing tape across the new door knocker to remind myself I need a different bolt. And I whisper a prayer of gratitude for all that He has provided, even the gentle chaos that encompasses daily life on Earth. It’s in these moments that I find the thin places.
I stepped out onto my little front patio and looked up. No moon, no stars, clouds too heavy, but the shadowed trees, the Christmas lights awaiting their turn to shine again tonight, the barest hint of woodsmoke and I knew He was with me, enfolding me in His love. Thin places, where heaven seems so close surrounded me. And in this quiet stillness, I found the strength for my day to begin. I pray the same for you for today and always.
The Unexpected Life 