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Praying at 3:21 AM

chicken  

It was 3:21 AM when I first heard the music.

It was Labor Day morning. It was supposed to be a sleep-in-morning.

I was having a dream about blind chickens…which totally makes sense. And then somehow the theme song to Jay Jay the Jet Plane overtook the tragic atmosphere. Eventually I woke up enough to realize that I really was hearing music and picked up my alarm clock.

3:21 AM.

I stumbled down our hallway and saw light streaming from under our 3-year-old’s door. Slowly… I cracked the door open just a bit and found– Lydi dancing with Minnie Mouse to her Jay Jay the Jet Plane music CD.

Toys were everywhere. Pajamas were removed. Music was blaring. Minnie was showing off her moves. And I was greeted with a big smile.

I wasn't smiling.

Lydia said: “It’s WAKE UP TIME !!!”

I said: “No. It isn’t.”

Okay, maybe I should insert…

I said, (with a growl).

After clarifying our morning expectations and a long-winded speech about--

...the selfishness of waking up your mom who needs her sleep and you are not allowed out of bed and why aren't you tired and using a black sharpie to circle the numbers on the clock that DO EQUATE WAKE UP TIME...

I had a difficult time going back to sleep. Which honestly isn’t like me. Usually I can sleep anywhere, anytime. I’m the perfect kindergarten-nap-mat-candidate.

And so as I lay there wondering about blind chickens and such,  God reminded me that I could use the time for prayer.

And that's something I'm still trying not to miss... Those opportunities that God provides for me to pray.

The ten minutes when I'm waiting in the car line at school, and have the choice of checking Facebook or-- The pasta-stirring-moments when I could flip on the 6 o'clock news or-- The times when I'm folding laundry and my mental-to-do-lists are streaming or--

I could choose to pray.

Even those conversations where a friend is asking for prayer and I give my promise. When maybe better-best would be to not delay. And just pray.

That night a few years back, was a sweet time for me to talk with God. And to listen. Even if it was 3:21 AM on Labor Day.

Prayer is labor. But I need it. And it changes me. I want to always be on the look out for open windows, when God provides time for me to pour out my heart to Him-- In prayer.

“I pray because I can’t help myself. I pray because I’m helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time- waking and sleeping. It doesn’t change God- it changes me.” ― William Nicholson, Shadowlands

With Love, Kara

 

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