I’m happy to feature Sundi Jo this week. She writes about something I’ve struggled with for 19 years (insomnia). She’s an author, speaker, and small business owner, making her home in Branson, Missouri. Her first book, Dear Dad, Did You Know I Was a Princess?, releases Spring 2013. You’ll find her engulfed in the social media world, spending time with friends and family, hanging out in a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and flip fops, or writing. Find Sundi Jo on Facebook or Twitter (@sundijo).
I’m on my second week of insomnia now. It comes and goes, mostly coming versus going. The hormonal imbalance of a 28-year old could make for some great stories. I may be young but I have more hot flash memories than I care to share. I know it’s bad when I’m sitting around a table with women ages 50+ discussing night sweats and who will use the menu to fan themselves first.
The other night I decided I’d had enough of not sleeping. I forced myself to take a Tylenol PM and call it a night. I’d love to say I slept on a cloud, never moved a muscle, and woke up without bed breath. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. I had nightmare after nightmare and wrestled with each of the six pillows scattered on my bed. One of the side effects of the sleeping pills? Vivid dreams. Of course.
When I finally woke up to the reality of my bedroom and not the scenes from those horrible dreams, I was frustrated. I opened my Bible to read the daily devotional and perhaps find a verse that would allow me to blame God for my lack of sleep. Instead, I found this:
Yet what we suffer now is nothing compared to the glory he will reveal to us later. – Romans 8:18 NLT
I’m impatient. I don’t want to wait until later for God’s glory. I want it now. This suffering stuff is getting old. But as I started to mediate on that verse over and over again, I caught another glimpse of God’s grace. I was reminded that it would be worth the wait.
Every sleepless night is one night closer to an eternity filled with laughter and mercy. Every unwanted dream is one step closer to the forever I will spend never again worrying about what I will see when I close my eyes.
I ask God for the strength to withstand this trial. I ask him for healing. I tell him I’ll trust better tomorrow. We have a small discussion on how the dark circles under my eyes aren’t going to work and we/he needs to find a solution. I tell him I’m tired. He knows.
I keep waiting. I smile through the suffering. Okay, sometimes I scream and cry and cuss, but mostly I smile. It’s 3:42 a.m. as I write this, and it looks like it may be another long night. But this moment is small compared to the glory that’s coming.
Which of God’s promises are you holding onto?