Tender Mercies

As usual, I had to have a rough evening before I could experience the blessing of the next day.

Last night I was tired. Lately I've felt like I could sleep 24 hours straight, yet my body only lets me sleep about seven hours, even when I take something like Advil PM to help me sleep. The result of going to bed early is waking up at 3:30 or 4:00 a.m., still feeling exhausted and emotional.

Living ...with Style

I have an odd—maybe vain—habit. When I've practiced a piano number to almost error free (See my previous post about that), I record myself to listen for inappropriate pauses, tempo changes, and my muttered frustration at mistakes. Then I work to fix those areas.

Today when listening to Lorie Line, who wrote most of the music I'm attempting to play, I didn't hear her correct notes. I heard her style. Her playing didn't resemble piano key-plunking as mine often does. Her rhythm didn't seem tiresome and rigid. It flowed. And her dynamics? Well, let's just say that I pretend mine are always mezzo forte, and something is lost in my interpretation.

Sleepwalking

This is what I woke up to this morning. A Mario Kart top bed sheet, crumpled and thrown down the stairs. I stared at it a moment, thinking, What in the world? before laughing at the thought of Elijah in his late-night sleepwalking, feeling the urge to hurl this unruly, untucked bed sheet downward into our living room.

We had awakened to light rap, rap, rapping (Sorry--English teacher inside joke) on our chamber/bedroom door to find Elijah sitting outside, mumbling gibberish. This has become a frequent spectacle at our home. (Kaylee has caught him on video, but I'm not quite mean enough to post that on my blog.)

His sleepwalking fog reminds me of what I consider one of the most confusing passages of the New Testament, Romans 7: 14-20:

Mistakes

Their. My first act as blogger: a mistake.

It's 1:47 a.m. as I type this entry. When I woke up about 30 minutes ago, the first thought on my mind—what I feel literally woke me up—was that annoying lowercase letter that I left in a headline at work. The headline? "Meet your Team." It was held up in a flash as an example of good work. Instead of being proud, I cringed as I read that headline. For the hours I spent on that project, all it took was one glance, and in my mind, that project is ruined. I had made a mistake.

A little while ago, I was relieved as I noticed my husband get out of bed to make a bathroom trip. If he's awake, I'll be able to have a short conversation that will make me feel better. "Just go to sleep and quit thinking" was his answer. As he quickly relaxed into slumber again, I'll admit I felt a wee bit of jealousy. If only it were that easy.

Sometimes clarity of thought comes to me in the middle of the night:


Ephesians 2:4-10 says,
But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions--it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God—not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God's worksmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Some people see perfectionism as a positive trait. I do not. Perfectionism is egotistical. It says, "I'm not quite worthy, but I can get there." Perfectionism draws attention away from God's grace and attempts to place it on our own accomplishments or lack thereof.

I really doubt that God sees a lowercase "y" as a sin. I could be wrong, but I think He is probably more concerned with my sleepless nights when I forget that He is Lord over all, that His grace is sufficient, and that I am His workmanship.

My feather pillow is calling me. For tonight, I'm done thinking about me.