Skip to main content

Willing but Weak

I'm pretty attached to sleeping. Wait, let me clarify: I'm pretty attached to feeling rested. I tend to stay up late because my mind clears as those dependent on me for care fall asleep, and I will absolutely get up early for a worthy adventure - but in terms of the norm, I'd like to get about 6-8 hours, uninterrupted, every night. If that doesn't happen, or I'm sick or extra-tired for some reason, I'm not averse to a nap.

Except that I now have two children under the age of three, and at least one of them wakes up needing comfort, assistance, or sustenance at least once every night. And during the brief overlap of their naps during the day, there are too many other things that I need to do (and that I'd like to do) to get a nap very often.

You would think that two and a half years of this would have resigned me to it - rather, it's made me crankier and more entitled. I bid the covers a very fond farewell each morning until I've rushed through the evening's tasks and can return to their warm embrace. While I recognize sleep and rest as necessary to human function, this has become unhealthy.

So this year for Lent, I'm giving up sleep. Not that I plan to sleep any less than I already do, but to reframe the time I wish I was asleep as an offering, instead of reporting it as a robbery. I'm going to spend that time praying - first and foremost, for Syrian refugees (there's a Lenten prayer guide, produced by We Welcome Refugees, here if you'd like to join in that effort) because I strongly believe that's something I should be praying about, and then about whoever and whatever comes to mind after that.

It's a double discipline - shifting from frustration to gratitude, then redeeming the time in prayer - but I hope for change as a result, change that extends past this season and into the years to come.
Then Jesus went with them to a place called Gethsemane, and He said to His disciples, "Sit here, while I go over there and pray." And taking with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, He began to be sorrowful and troubled. Then He said to them, "My soul is very sorrowful, even to death; remain here, and watch with me." And going a little further He fell on His face and prayed, saying, "My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as You will." And he came to the disciples and found them sleeping... {Matthew 26:36-40}
2399. Ines helping me pray in Spanish (and not thinking I was silly for wanting to)
2400. Brooklyn at least telling me that she'd had contraband, so I wasn't caught off guard by the ill effects
2401. Unexpected dinner out as a family (and Brooklyn and Tobin both happily eating refried black beans)
2402. A restorative Ash Wednesday service at church
2403. Adam staying with Brooklyn and Tobin so I could go alone
2404. Space to begin an organizing project


Popular posts from this blog

31 Days of Unraveling Designs

It's that time of year again... the 31 Days writing challenge starts today! Bloggers from all over will be writing every day of the month of October on the topic of their choosing. This will be my fourth year participating - the first year I did 7 for 31, and spent a month going through Jen Hatmaker's book 7. The second year I did 31 Days of Sustainable Dwelling, and wrote about local and fair trade living. Last year I was busy but still wanted to participate, so I went the easy route with 31 Days of Everyday Beautiful.

This year I'm diving into my greatest passion: knitting! I'll spend this month looking at past designs and talking about the inspiration behind them, so there will be plenty of regular life mixed in with the stitching - and there may be discount codes for the patterns that I write about. You'll just have to read and see!

Pattern index:

Pageturner Mitts
Hogwarts House Tie
Urban Artemis
Graffiti for Humanity
Love Out Loud
Strange Jacket


In order to change your knitting, you must first change yourself. I've lost track of how many times I've said that, or how many people I've said it to. Frustrated new knitters wondering why their work is loose or tight or uneven or really anything less than perfect. But something I love about knitting is that it's a record of your inner dialogue. That swatch knit at the yarn store table with a cozy cup of coffee and a helpful (and more experienced) knitter nearby is going to be a lot more relaxed than the sweater begun a week later while sitting next to a hospital bed - just like the knitter.

Unfortunately, this also applies to my own knitting. For years, I was apparently unaffected by the shifts and turmoils in my own life, so I assumed that I was exempt from the rule - when the reality was, in fact, that I wasn't really experiencing any of those on anything deeper than a surface level because everything was deadened by depression. When I finally started to really…


A few years ago, I was introduced to the concept of replacing the traditional list of resolutions with a single word. It appealed to me - I am not a big list person, but I love language and words and meanings and etymology and metaphor and... ahem. Ennyhoo. I liked the idea.
I've never chosen the word. It's always presented itself to me - and last year was no different. Pacific was very insistent, even though I tried to argue with it. Pacific? What does that even mean? What am I supposed to do with that?
But I accepted it, and I'm glad I did. I learned about depth and calm, about storm and nurture, about faith and adventure - and about the unstoppable ocean of God's grace, that overwhelms to fill and cleanse and bring blessings unasked.
So I'm bidding pacific a very fond farewell, and welcoming spark and whatever lessons it would like to bring. I invited it in with a copper wire punctuated with tiny lights and wrapped around my mood board, and I've got an empt…