Is God awake at 3:30am?

As a new mom, about one third of my day is spent feeding my precious tiny one (really it's down to about six times a day - God bless Micaiah for being down to one nightly feeding!). For most of the day, I find creative ways to occupy myself in this time that would otherwise be spent loafing, infant sprawled across the lap, staring off into space. Occasionally I turn on the television or a movie which can be paused and re-started at the next feeding (I'm eliminating these options from my repertoire, however, for the primary reason that I have been convicted about my obscene amounts of media in-take, but that's another story for another day). On my most spry of days, I feel talented enough to balance Micaiah on her Boppy on my lap at the dining room chair that has become our desk chair at the microwave cart that currently calls itself our office, using the side rails of the chair to prop my otherwise dangling feet because I snapped off the front foot rail in one overzealous jigsaw moment almost two years ago. Meanwhile, I attempt to keep this tiny girl from slipping with one hand while I use the free hand to maneuver the mouse and keyboard to get things done that I feel can't wait for the half-hour to forty-five minutes (to an hour! Thank you growth spurts!) it would take to fill her tiny belly. When not opting for one of the first two, however, I simply read - the Bible during my regular quiet time hour, teen novels from the 50's my mom passed down to me when I was twelve, but too cool to read books my MOM read when she was a girl (now I hope to pass them down to Micaiah, who will, of course, be totally above the cool factor), and most other times it's simply TIME magazine (I have a subscription, and if I fail to keep up, the weekly digests overwhelm my home and stress me out - because they can't be recycled until they've been read, of course). When I read, I generally do it aloud because I'm not good at making up random conversation to stimulate my child, and, thus, find my reading to her from Proverbs, or about Donna Parker in Hollywood, or (disturbingly enough) the horror of the tuberculosis epidemic in developing nations, to be the best amount of verbal intake she'll get for the timebeing.

All of these wonderful time-consuming endeavors, however, become obsolete at her middle of the night feeding (anywhere between the hours of 2 and 5, or both, but most recently at 3:30 on the dot - I should have known when she popped out right on her due date that she would excel in scheduling). During these wee morning hours, I choose not to confuse her system by turning on a light or making any unnecessary noises - thus leaving myself nothing to do while she guzzles down her midnight/3:30 snack, but to allow my eyes to meander across her toys, shelves, crib and changing table, all clothed in darkness, wondering when I will ever get those baskets for the changing table to hide the unsightly (even in the dark) clutter that has overtaken the shelves. However, it occurred to me last week (epipanies at 3:30am are, indeed, rare, but generally worth the effort when they choose to grace my presence) that there was definitely something much worthwhile with which to fill this half hour - I could pray.

In fact, as my waking hours tend to be so filled with my own personal worries - I am a very selfish being who is working on that - I am very much in the habit of sympthetically listening to a roomful of prayer requests on Sunday or Wednesday mornings and then going home, promptly forgetting to even think of these hurting and needing individuals throughout the week. No more! I now allow myself to approach the throne of God while my young daughter feasts. I approach Him with any and all prayer requests that come to my mind - and in earnestness, not idly, wishing this time would go by faster so I could return to slumber. I am finding myself feeling so blessed through this time alone with God in the dark. And I've even finally allowed myself to stop talking long enough to let Him speak to me. And, oh, the richness of hearing God's voice! I cannot help but to be humbled by His love for me, and His gentle admonishings. I will not venture to say I look forward to waking only four hours after resting my head - but if she's going to wake me up anyway, I could not think of a more fulfilling way to spend the hours between 2 and 5 in the morning.

Perhaps soon I will step aside enough to allow God to penetrate my daytime hours in the same way . . .