Morning Confession: Darkness Welcomes the Light

This is pitiful to admit, but I think I burn more calories in my sleep than I do during the day. I am constantly tossing and turning and getting up multiple times to go to the bathroom. I recently came up with an idea for a new workout video, “Snooze till You Lose: Workout in Your Sleep.” I could make millions!

I suppose restless nights are more of an adult phenomenon. As a kid, I slept very soundly. So soundly in fact, I usually slept right through my trips to the bathroom. Mom said I was a morning person at an early age. Perhaps it had something to do with the big wet spot in the bed. Anyway, up at the crack of dawn, I was eager to start my day. My morning usually consisted of corn flakes and cartoons. Who wouldn’t want to get up early for that?!

But adolescence changed all that. During my high school and college years, there were summers I never even saw morning, unless we are talking about the front end of it. In my teen years, I would greet the morning like a drunk anticipating a hangover. Daylight would have to work overtime peeling back my thickened eyelids. Eventually, after most of the world had taken their lunch break, I was finally waking up and contemplating a shower.

Today, after parenthood and career have had their way with my aging earth suit, I have become rather chummy with a variety of aches and pains, and I must say, they are definitely night owls. They do their best work while I attempt a good night’s sleep.

Now, my mornings are more like an act of surrender. I pull off my white pillowcase and wave it in the air. “I give up!” I shout to my nocturnal dynamic duo. Aches and pains have won again. I rise like an aging wrestler getting up after the final bout of his career. My wife of 31 years sleeps soundly on her side of the bed. The alarm clock glows a dark green 5:00.

I shuffle stiffly toward the bathroom. Leaving the light off, I blindly take aim. Hello dear friend. Thanks for being there for me in the middle of the night. Thanks for putting up with my, well, you know. I flush in the dark.

I hesitantly flip on the light. The dog is as perturbed as I am. I change into my workout clothes but plan to avoid the treadmill. I head downstairs to the kitchen for bran flakes and liquid energy. I settle into my easy chair and grab my Bible. Now my day begins. Now I am ready for the Light.