Pillow Talk


The alarm sounds, but I’ve been restless for at least thirty minutes by now. It’s 5:30 am. Some people thrive in the morning. Not me. I’m not made for the morning, but I try to forget that as I drag my weary body out of bed, and I remind myself: work is a blessing.

Shower. Breakfast. Make lunches. Are the kids awake? They hate this more than I do some days. I heat my morning tea in the microwave and grab bags as we rush out the door. I’ve checked the clock at least ten times already as we have this whole routine timed down to the last minute. Why do we have to get ready for the sunrise before the sun even wakes up?

We somehow scramble into the car in the nick of time and because the roads are dry and I’m feeling like I don’t want to say goodbye just yet, I drive the extra minutes to drop off my children at school. This feels good as our sleepy bodies start to wake up and finally relax from the morning rush out the door. Plus, they think I’m the best mom in the world because they don’t have to ride the bus today. This is the day that the Lord has made, I remind them. Mostly, I remind myself.

Some people hate their commute. Not me. I’m an INFJ, so I need this time to process. I crave this space and margin to think. Plus, I still need to wake up. I am thankful for these thirty minutes to sit.

Somewhere driving north on I25, I glance towards the mountains to the west and drink in the sunrise. My fear speaks. Can I do this? Can I juggle all these jobs? I feel the weight of my limits. Yes, my mountains feel big, but I give a pep talk to my fickle and fearful heart. God is bigger. And somewhere along this highway, I transform from mommy and wife to ESL teacher. I take a deep breath. Breathe in Holy Spirit. Exhale stress.

Thoughts of lesson plans and classroom management and emails and conversations and meetings and deadlines and delightful students and challenging students and stressful observations flood my mind as I rehearse the day and pull up to the school and into the lot to park my car.

I rush to greet smiley and sleepy children at the bus stop and give high fives to each one. My morning is a whirlwind of brown-faced children in hijabs and black-haired students with smiles and stories and hopes and dreams. We read, we write, we listen, we speak, and in a blink the sun is high noon and it’s time to make my pilgrimage from the bustling city back to the suburbs.

{I wonder on the drive home if I’m a city girl or a country girl. I’m pretty sure I’m one or the other and definitely sure I’m not a suburbs girl.}

The afternoon is filled with errands and laundry. Lunch and dinner prep. A nap to recover. I wonder if I’m really an American girl or if I should move to Mexico where people wouldn’t think  twice about my afternoon siestas.

Round two is the afternoon pickups from school. Sports. Gymnastics. Church. Appointments. I am now taxi mom and where did those two hours just go?

Round three is dinner and homework. Will we ever make it to bedtime, I lament. The emotional tug and pull of the day has me worn thin. How will I do this again tomorrow?

Finally the sun is down and I am done. I cross the finish line to bed. I set my alarm for the next day, and as my head hits the pillow, I remember three more things that didn’t get done. I start to shame myself, put myself down. How could I have forgotten? How could I let these things slip away from me? Why can’t I do more? I am weary from this pillow talk I give myself every night.

And then, I stop myself. I feel the weight of my humanity. I finally embrace it. I make friends and surrender to her limits. I am limited; thankfully, God is not. As I drift off to sleep, the Spirit gently reminds me that I need sleep. {And that’s ok.}

But God doesn’t. I can’t do more because I am not God.

Finally, I can rest in my limits, knowing that God keeps going even when I can’t.

And somehow, this feels good.

“Do you not know? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom. He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary,

and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Isaiah 40:28-31

*I’m linking up with Kate Motaung’s Five Minute Friday. This week’s word is “limit.”

{Photo source: Zen Bedrooms}

1 thought on “Pillow Talk”

  1. This is wonderful! I’m exhausted just reading about your busy day! Hey…maybe moving to Mexico so I can siesta is totally the answer to my prayers for not feeling guilty when I nap in the afternoons. 😊

    ~#76 at FMF linkup

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