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Posts Tagged ‘sleep’

Daylight Saving time is tough on several groups of people:

  • Children, specifically those between birth and 13…tired, hungry and grumpy at awkward times. This is true every day for teenagers so I’m not including them.
  • Moms and Dads, because of the children mentioned above.
  • Old people, for much the same reasons as children. This age group has come to depend on a routine and losing/gaining an hour throws that out the window. The term “grumpy old man” refers to a guy the Monday after Daylight Saving Time.
  • Church attendees, and more specifically church workers, those who have to be at church at least an hour earlier than everyone else. DST always occurs in the early morning hours of Sunday which results in at least one person walking into service an hour late. And the kids’ church workers stumbling around trying to corral those children I mentioned in the first bullet point.

So my couch is calling. I’m in at least two of the above categories. Had a wonderful morning at church, worshiping, celebrating, praying, listening, eating, laughing but now I’m “verbed” out. I think the only ones left for me are napping and snuggling.

Happy Daylight Saving Day! May your naps be long and your children be merry.

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“Please, sweet baby. Just go to sleep.” The poor mama was almost in tears. So many late nights trying to get her young son to sleep. She knew that once he settled down, he would be fine, but he was stubborn and just would not fall to sleep without her presence. Their apartment was too small to allow him to “cry it out” which was the suggestion almost everyone gave the new parents.

“He’ll stop soon enough. Let him cry.” Well, he must not have listened to their advice because he could cry, and cry, and cry, without wearing down at all. Conscious of their thin walls, and trying to be good neighbors, they could not allow the noise to go on very long. So far, her only solution was taking him out of his crib and resting with him on the spare double bed in the baby’s room.

“Please, sweetie. Just sleep.” Her pleas met deaf ears. His eyes stayed bright and alert. The baby giggled and cooed as his mama snuggled with him on top of the handmade quilt.

“Lord, help me. I don’t know what to do.” She had prayed every day (and night) for a solution. She knew God cared about every facet of her life, even the amount of sleep she got, so she knew He would give her guidance in this area too.

Finally, when she thought the only solution was sleeping in that double bed every night, she had a sudden thought.

“Sing.” Sing?

“Lord, I’m not a very good singer. I don’t know very many lullabies.”

But that still, small voice kept whispering, “sing.”

Wracking her brain, she tried to think of pop tunes, or lullabies or even hymns to sing to her brown-eyed baby boy, but she came up empty. Except for one little tune with simple lyrics.

“He won’t care what I sound like. He’s just a baby. He won’t even remember.”

So she started to sing…

“O Lord, You’re beautiful.

Your face is all I seek.

For when Your eyes are on this child,

Your grace abounds to me.

I wanna take Your Word and shine it all around,

But first help me just to live it, Lord.

And when I’m doing well, help me to never seek a crown,

For my reward is giving glory to You.”

Over and over, she sang the lyrics to this simple chorus, until it was no longer just a lullaby to her baby, but a song of worship from her heart. She didn’t just sing the song, she prayed the song. That little baby didn’t miraculously fall asleep the minute his mama started singing, but he watched her and he listened to her and his little spirit eventually grew quiet. Each night, she sang to her little guy until one night, she didn’t have to. He fell asleep on his own, without her off-key voice and simple songs. Sleep, blessed sleep.

David_Mom_asleepLooking back on those nights, I don’t remember my scratchy eyes (and voice). I don’t remember the sense of helplessness or even hopelessness. I don’t remember feeling like a stupid new parent. I remember the peace that came over my little boy, the intimate times of worship in that small bedroom, the quiet presence of the Holy Spirit as I sang that simple, but powerful, song to my firstborn. I didn’t realize it then but God answered my prayers. Not just the one asking for David to fall asleep, but the one embedded in the song. Because God’s eyes weren’t just on me, His eyes were on my child. And what He planted in my little boy – a love of music, a desire to worship and a boldness to give glory to God wherever he goes – started in that little apartment in the middle of the dark nights when he refused to sleep until his mom sang the lyrics to that Keith Green chorus, over and over.

I’m grateful for that little song. I cry every time my beautiful daughter-in-law sings those words while her husband, my little stubborn brown-eyed firstborn son, accompanies her on guitar or piano. It’s still the cry of my heart. Not so my baby will fall asleep, but so my soul awakens to the grace and glory of God.

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