Pillow Talk

Three a.m. and I’m wide awake again. Another sleepless night. It’s too early to get up and too late to raid the fridge even if I could afford the calories.

I’d read a book, but I’d never be able to concentrate. There’s too much to worry about. How are we going to manage our bills? Where is the economy headed? How are our kids going to make it? They’re in their twenties and scattered across the States.

Lord, there are so many things to lose sleep over!

None of this bothers my husband, Donald, breathing so peacefully. I pull up the covers and shut my eyes tight then push back the blankets and punch the pillow. Three a.m.! Too restless to sleep, too tired to get up. If only I could distract myself from my worries. Pray, I think. About what? Everything I think of makes me worry even more.

Pray for others, my restless mind insists. All right. I start with Donald since he’s beside me: “God, bless him and his work.” I pray for our the kids, then members of our extended family: siblings, cousins, nieces, nephews. I remember a friend recovering from an accident, which reminds me of another friend who just had surgery. What next, God?

I think of the people next door, the couple across the street. Somewhere a dog is barking. I pray for him too. I picture each house to the right and left of us and then our whole block. My mind floats above and I see myself as a tiny speck on a huge planet. On the other side of the world the sun is shining and people are scurrying to work. “Bless them, Lord, even if they’re too busy to remember you.”

I visualize the planet revolving. Every hour it’s 3:00 a.m. somewhere. And every hour there are people like me lying in bed talking to God, a relay team stationed around the globe.

We take turns connecting our world to God’s care and, for centuries, it has continued in an unbroken chain. The thought has come just in time because I’m drifting off to sleep. Time for someone else to pick up the chain of prayer, somewhere else where it’s 3:00 a.m.