Largely because I am less than epic.
We were at Myrtle Beach the last three nights. We footed the bill personally but, because we were with a ministry group, we got a good deal. A deal this cheap guy said OK to. Oceanfront view, you know.
It was going to be awesome.
Except the weather was cold and rainy and miserable and we had a claustrophobic 17 month old and this morning, after two mostly sleepless nights, at 4 AM I found myself wide awake and worrying.
About jobs and family and work deadlines and babies and kids and soon to be calls from doctors and writing deadlines and stuff.
Also, I was thinking about NLC people.
I know so many needs about so many families and feel such a burden and responsibility to pray for so many things...part of my job and calling and I am so honored to know these things.
I shivered and tossed and my legs cramped and I stared brutal holes in the ceiling.
Sleepless while much of the the world slept.
And outside, the ocean roared.
Listen, the sound of the ocean is my favorite sound. I love everything about water and about surf and about waves.
Normally, anything to do with the ocean soothes me to sleep like a baby with his mama's go-to lullaby.
But last night and this morning it sounded ominous. I envisioned body surfing going wrong, choking, spitting, tossing, slamming, mouth full of salt water and skin abrabed by shell fragments.
Bizarre, because I love the ocean.
I had bad dreams about the ocean.
I never got it quite right, spirituallly. But I did hear the words of a song we sang at Next Level this past Sunday. And they made all the sense in the world:
And when the oceans rage
I don't have to be afraid
Because I know that you love me
Your love never fails
