I think the biggest breakthrough happened was when I relaxed about when I would fall asleep, and realized there was actually no way I wouldn't get at least some sleep, especially after taking my medications, which basically knock me out anyways.
But actually there was an even greater breakthrough, when I trusted when I couldn't sleep or was awakened in the middle of the night, that there could be a purpose for being awake. That there might be someone to pray for, or something to battle through. It wasn't a disaster to be awake at midnight or 3 am or 5 am; it was actually an opportunity to spend time with God and seek his guidance and direction.
I can ask God to help me sleep. If something in my day is troubling me, I can bring it to him. If I have any burdens I have picked up I can lay them down. If I have become prideful, I can turn away from that. If I feel unsafe either physically or spiritually, I can remember the angels that surround and encamp about me. I can remember the blood of Jesus which purifies and protects. I can remember my Heavenly Father who holds me in the palm of his hand and who has numbered the hairs of my head and keeps my tears in a bottle.
When my emotions seem out of control, there is One who can bring peace. He can still the storm with three words: "Peace, be still."
Sometimes I picture Jesus with me, standing by my bed, or even holding me in his arms. I think of what he might say to me and I remember his red letter words. At the hospital He was always there when I couldn't sleep, and I would pretend we were having a slumber party, but I complained to Him He was keeping me awake. He might have been keeping me awake, but it was for a purpose. More likely He was working on me, reorganizing some files deep in my brain, or redecorating the walls of my home.
Hard to believe this was already three years ago. Where has time gone?
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