Was up late last night. Reading. It’s my time. It’s what I look forward to at the end of the night.
I remember not too long ago dreading the evening. The witching hour. The time when I would have been drinking. One beer while I cooked. Sometimes two. But it wasn’t wine and no one saw the beer go down but me. So it “didn’t count.”
The wine didn’t start until 8 or 8:30. It’s strange when I picture the images of me and my oversized glass filled to the tippy top. It’s like I’m looking at a different person.
Now mother son kitchen dance offs and homework are enough to make me smile through meal prep. I don’t rush through my son’s bedtime routine anymore either.. I enjoy it. After all, it’s when my inner weirdo gets to come out and play. His laugh. I need to record it. I live for that laugh.
Then later I get time awake when the rest of the family is sleeping. Drunk me did this too. In front of the tv. I picture the zombie with glazed eyes staring at the tv from her recliner. I don’t even watch the same shows as I did when I was drinking.
Last night it was the rain that had me buzzed. So peaceful. Serene. Like a lullaby. God’s version of humming me to sleep.
I often forget that I’m a child of God. A. Child. A daughter. I know His love is unconditional but I forget about the forgiving part. I forget about the grace part. I forget about His desire to be with me part.
The doer in me just focuses on the doing for Him. The proving to Him. Not the being with Him.
That’s the part I need the most right now. No wonder I was so thirsty. My soul is parched. I’ve over medicated with a dirty drug that never heals. Alcohol only inflames old wounds and creates new ones. You just go numb while the wounds grow deeper.
I’m ready to be. Be still. I know He has plans for me. And the project slayer in me is secretly salivating to get her hands on the blueprints.
But for now, I am learning to just be. And listen. I’m getting used to the quiet.