... and God laughs

I'm on vacation, right?

Sunday, 2:48 a.m.

My eyes spring open as my brain engages. The house is soundless and dark, but I am awake as if an alarm bell were clanging. Reluctantly look at the clock, expecting the blue glow of five-colon-zero-zero.

Ha ha.

So I turn over, thinking that I should get more sleep. Around 3:30 I give in, and within seconds Child begins to cry. I wait a while So That She Learns to Self-Comfort, but she's got that flat crying sound that says something's up. A few minutes in the dark with her and a clean pacifier and she's back in the crib. I put the coffee on and slice Susan's bread for toast.

Ha ha.

Once again I hear the dulcet tones of Child, this time it's a bottle cry. Pour, warm, feed, shhhh. Back into crib. Sit down in chair with Bible, toast, coffee and cat. The dog's collar begins jingling.

Ha ha.

Happily, he settles himself down, but by now I'm mentally writing a sermon, planning worship, selecting new pillows for the living room, reading a You book, working on a Rule. All in my head; all before 4:15. So I get up, get more coffee, come upstairs, and start looking for a church to visit, since the plan to go to the evangelical contemporary church near our home church looks less and less appealing. The plan changes.

Ha ha ha giggle snort.

We plan; God laughs. Sunday morning on vacation before 5 a.m.