May the glory of the LORD endure forever; may the LORD rejoice in his works. Psalm 104:31
By the time I hit the bed my thoughts are tough knots. Worry has tangled many concerns into a twist of charged-up strands.
I usually don't get this way.
But tonight I'm wound tight.
"You okay?" Lonny asks.
I curl against his side. "Sure," I say. But I'm not being honest, really.
I don't know why I've given myself over to worry tonight. There are concerns I have for the boys. Different things. From the oldest to the youngest. Needs. Concerns. A hundred reasons to fret.
I try to find the off-switch to my thoughts, but my mind seems to have taken on a wild life of its own.
I flip over. Fluff my pillow. Think about charging from bed to find a good book.
Then I hear it.
The windows are open because the night air is cool. And it has started to rain.
The rain is gentle. It's a soft rhythm ebbing into my room. It's a pattering. The kind of rain my dad calls a "soaking rain". I can hear it, kind and soft, falling on ivy outside my window. I think of it, refreshing the flowers and the spring green grass.
Then comes the frog.
He's croaking. The croak is deep and it's coming from somewhere behind the house. I can hear it through the bedroom window that opens to the pool.
Everything else in the world seems quiet, except for this rhythm.
Even my thoughts go quiet, and I understand that this is a music of praise.
Nature is offering praise.
I lie still for a few minutes and listen. My fists uncurl. I hear Lonny beside me. His even breath has joined the rhythm, too.
And my own heart joins the praise.
Thank you God that You are faithful.
Thank you that You meet our needs.
Even in this song I see Your kindness.
And there is peace.
The rain continues to fall and the frog continues his song.
In some strange way I feel safe. Hemmed in.
And I understand, in that foggy-warm place before sleep, that this night music has become a lullaby, and in the Lord's sweet goodness, I am going to rest.