2:27AM

2:27AM. My heart is pounding. My stomach is churning. I can barely keep my eyes open but I can’t get back to sleep either. Might be the 4pm cup of coffee, or it could be anxiety. Certainly a lot of anxiety. Sitting in the dark on the floor “crying out” to God. Are you going to come through for us? Are you going to help us? I look at the future and come up with a blank. That’s what the future is from my view after all… a blank. I don’t know what He’ll do in the future. I really don’t know. All I know is what He’s done in the past. And in the past He’s taken care of us.

But it has sometimes come with insane amounts of unsettledness, hard choices, general discomfort. And right now, I’m not sure I have it in me to be waking up at 2:37AM several times a year to crunch numbers, contemplate the near future and ask myself yet again if I’ve completely lost my mind. I’m a train racing down an unfinished track. Do I trust the builders to finish the tracks before I go careening into some ravine somewhere?

When Annabel wants something badly and I’m not able or willing to deliver immediately, she tends to ask and ask with increasing distress. I might say, “honey, I’ll take care of you. You need to relax and be patient. I’ll help you soon. Do you trust me?” Clearly she doesn’t because she becomes more upset and asks louder and becomes hysterical as though her world was caving in. We reach the point where I become firm and say, “I love you. I’ll care for you. But this conversation needs to be over right now because it’s just making you more upset. If you keep bringing it up there will be consequences.” She hates it when I say that. But eventually, the screams turn to whimpers as she desperately tries to get a hold of herself… last week, it was a painful lesson in saying “thank you.” I had to forcefully cut off the conversation when she became hysterical. In the moment she said something painfully cute like “I’m trying SO hard to stop the tears but they just keep coming!” But the next day, she woke up and said, “Daddy, I decided it’s not so scary to say ‘thank you’ after all,” and she’s been saying it religiously ever since.

I kind of get how she feels. And in a sense, I’ve been sensing God say this week, “kid, I love you. But right now, this conversation is not healthy for you. You’ve become hysterical and we need to stop talking about it. I’ve given you my answer. I’ll come through for you. But it may not be when or how you expected. I guarantee, it WILL feel painful and unsettled at times. But I WILL deliver on my promises. So right now, you need to be quiet.”

Screams to whimpers. Whimpers to silence. Silence to contemplation. Not sure if this lesson is ever going to stick. But maybe 2:58AM isn’t the best time to make that assessment. I can only hope that one of these mornings I can wake up and say, “Daddy, I decided it’s not so scary to trust you after all,” and a new habit will be born.