Friday, May 4, 2012

Whispers To My Maker

I lie awake in those hours before dawn. The only sounds are the whirring of the fan and the hiss of the air. The numbers of time shine crimson against the darkness next to my pillow. I toss and turn fitfully, finding no comfortable position. On my back again, I try to sleep. Morning will be here soon and with it relief. But tranquil sleep won't come again just now, so I whisper in my mind to my Maker.

When will this end?
Please stop the madness.
Break what needs to be broken, and mend what needs to be repaired.

My mind drifts to unconsciousness, only to be jolted awake with the consuming fear of the earlier late-night hours. The crimson numbers discourage me as only mere minutes have passed. I breathe deeply, only to have the air momentarily constricted in my lungs before I exhale. I whisper again.

Help me!
Just get me through the dark.
Please let morning arrive quickly!

He listens to the heart of my words. Intimate conversation. Words for only His ears. While there are no audible words spoken, quiet comfort is the reply. The words of a song weave their way through my soul: Morning by morning, new mercies I see. All I have needed Thy hand hath provided. Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me. Anxiety turns to assurance as I wrestle with the fading dark. The nearness of another morning promises another victory over the long night's battle. The dread will soon be over for as long as daylight lasts.

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