Old Nights and Roses

Last night I had an “old night.” In case any young pups are reading this blog (aka: twenty-somethings), I should probably translate that.

Until a few years ago, I had almost endless energy. I was one of those folks who could stay up until two or three in the morning and love it. It was very unusual for me to get the end of a day and feel physically tired.

But I’m thirty-seven now. And things are starting to feel a little different lately. First off, my eyes are changing. I’ve noticed the need to hold things a little further away to see them. (Creepy.) And sometimes my joints will send out a snap, crackle, or pop. And once in a while, late at night, I get tired.

Last night was one of those nights. Sure, we’ve been sick on and off for two weeks. So maybe I can blame that. Also, end of the school year craziness has been exhausting. But still, my clock hit 11:30, and I was WIPED. I mean that dizzy tired where you just have to get somewhere horizontal.

And so I crawled in bed. And I was worried.

I remember being twenty-five with a newborn. I was so scared of SIDS that I spent most of the first three months of JD’s life sleeping with my hand on his little chest. Listening to every breath. Trying to keep him alive with my alertness.

And I remember being twenty-nine with two little ones running around. Making myself get out of bed and put one foot in front of another - in the middle of the night - when someone woke up with a bad dream.

Could I really do that again? Am I totally crazy for thinking about this? Am I too old? Honestly, I had a moment or two of panic.

Trying to comfort myself, I started to think through my many friends who have had kids at 40+. They did it. So it CAN be done. And I thought about those seventy-something anomalies who still run marathons and wear bikinis. And look good doing both. (How does that work again?) But I still had this moment of fear that my thirty-seven was somehow older than their forty and seventy. Fear that I couldn’t do it.

I slept on that fear. And I woke up feeling refreshed.

I woke up thinking about good old Sarah who found out she was pregnant at ninety-nine, and how she was shocked out of her gourd. (Her response makes a lot more sense to me now than it did ten years ago!) Yet God provided for this new call on her life. Because it wasn’t about her weakness, but about God’s strength.