Those Nights

Do you ever have those nights where you just can't go to bed?

Sure, you're tired, but you're restless, and your mind is going a hundred kilometers per minute. (I'm trying to be a little realistic here...)

I have those nights more often than not these days. 

Some nights, I'm afraid of what my dreams might be. Other nights, I don't want to face the silence before sleep. I don't want to acknowledge my thoughts. I want to listen to music, read, talk with friends, or play a mindless game up until the moment I crash. It's easier.

As I sit on my bed trying to figure out why this has become such I problem, I recall the origin of my struggle. These nights rarely happened until Tim and I ended our relationship. These nights started to happen because my nightmares started to happen, and I didn't want to face them. These nights started to happen after I started exposing pieces of my true brokenness to the world. But the Tim and "I just ruined my life and disappointed the world" dreams have ended. They ended months ago. But these nights are still here.

Confession: I do still have dreams I hate; they're seemingly harmless, but they stay with me. My dreams affect me a lot. I love to analyze everything, and my dreams are no exception. "Did I just dream about that because that's my subconscious desire?" "What does it mean to have recurring dreams where the goal is to run away?" "Why do I dream about Ghana? Why do I dream of home? Why do these dreams alternate so frequently?" 

Yes, my dreams impact my life. But not every night where I avoid sleep is a result of my fear of dreaming. There's that painful silence before finally falling asleep - that time when you simply cannot ignore your thoughts. In those moments, I see more of my brokenness than I care to see. I see my deepest longings. I see my discontentment. I see my emptiness that I don't hand over to God to fill. I see that part of this young woman is still a scared little middle-school girl who simply doesn't want to be alone yet still struggles with loneliness. In those quiet moments before sleep happens, I see that a lot of the things that consume my thoughts are beyond my control, and I absolutely hate admitting that I can't change everything I want to change.

I'd rather escape, but tonight, I can't. I can't escape my brokenness. Instead, I opened up my blog not knowing what I needed to type in order to be able to turn off the lights, face the silence, lie awake for awhile, and finally sleep. And God gave me this. You're learning about my heart right alongside me tonight. I'm broken, and I hate that. I want to be in control, but I know I can't control much other than what I do in my free time, when I stop to think, and how long I let my nails grow.

Maybe tonight is about learning more about God's love for me. He knows my brokenness. He faces it head-on. Jesus faced my sin and its consequences on the cross. God sees my brokenness and softly beckons me to crawl into his lap and rest. 

The Lord hears his people when they call to him for help.
    He rescues them from all their troubles.
 The Lord is close to the brokenhearted;
    he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.

 The righteous person faces many troubles,
    but the Lord comes to the rescue each time....

 But the Lord will redeem those who serve him.
    No one who takes refuge in him will be condemned. (Psalm 34:17-19, 22)

I'm confident God is near to me in my desire to avoid parts of myself. I'm confident he cares about my confusion and resistance. I know God has been at work redeeming me, and I know he's not done; he will complete what he's begun. I just need to be patient. I need to acknowledge what he has done thus far. I need to cooperate and face my brokenness head-on like he does. And I'm starting tonight. I'll turn off my computer, turn off the music, and face my thoughts and questions knowing that God is bigger than them. 

Sweet dreams, friends!