The Wee Hours

Whew! I'm dragging. And there's not much I can do about it. Aside from clonking myself over the head with a hammer.

And believe me I've considered it.

About five years ago I asked Papa God for more hours in the day to get things done. He sent me menopause. Now I have half the stinkin' night too.

Insomnia has its good points, I suppose. I sure get a lot done before the sun comes up. Many days I've put in 2-3 hours of work on my writing before most folks get out of bed.

I've witnessed some humdinger sunrises.

I know which streetlights are the best bat hangouts.

Star constellations I never knew existed are now my favorite nightlights.

I've learned there are at least ten shades of quiet.

When you e-mail people at 3 a.m., it's downright shocking how many people write back.

So I'm not alone. There are many of you out there having tea parties in the wee hours. (I'm convinced that phrase was invented by a menopausal woman on a midnight potty run.)

Let me share with you a scripture that gives me comfort in my insomniac affliction: "He awakens me morning by morning. He awakens my ear to hear as a disciple" (Isaiah 50:4-5, NASB).

Makes me wonder if Peter, James, or John were ever awakened from a dead sleep by a grinning Jesus donning his Nike's for a 4 a.m. hike.

At least we're in good company.