Our daughter, Sam, is on her own, working and living near Springfield, Mo. Although I’m used to walking past her de-cluttered, bed-always-made room, there are days when I just miss my girl and want to hug her. I miss her coming into our room at 10:30 p.m., just as we’re getting ready for bed, and wanting to talk. Well, maybe I’m just waxing sentimental. I remember several occasions when I didn’t get to bed until after 11:30 p.m., wishing Sam would choose an earlier venting/sharing time.
What’s the Rolling Stones line? “You can’t always get what you want. But if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.” Here’s another (not from the Rolling Stones): If you want to make God laugh, tell Him your plans. I believe nothing is coincidental, and if you stop long enough to breathe, listen and just be, God might just reveal His plan for you in the smallest of ways. He will use whatever suits His purpose to gain your attention…I’m just sayin.
When Sam was a freshman in college, I almost forgot about her bad timing. Her body was on a much different clock than mine. She was usually up at midnight. I’m not. One Thursday, Sam called at 11:55 p.m., frustrated with her roommate who decided to bring her partying ways (and partying friends) to their room. I guess our children won’t understand what a late-night call does to a parent until they are parents themselves. She tried to call my cell phone first, but it was on vibrate, so she called the home phone. When the home phone rings at midnight, all kinds of horrible things run through your head. Still, Jim and I feel blessed that when she picks up the phone, she dials our number. I was searching for a loving way to tell her to pick up the phone before 10 p.m., but had not done so.
My plan the following Monday night was to get to bed before 10:30 p.m. I didn’t sleep well on Sunday night, and tried to get a jump on things Monday night. God had other plans. I took our dachshund, Bruno, out for his final run around 10:15 p.m. The routine is, well, routine. Bruno goes to bed when we go to bed. His crate is in our bedroom, and I put a towel over it so everything remains dark until I wake up (Jim wakes up an hour before I do). Bruno has been the best little sleeper since the first day we brought him home.
Not Monday night. He cried, he moaned, he made tiny little yelping sounds. Nothing very loud, but this just wasn’t like Bruno. I got out of bed and realized I forgot to put the towel over his crate.
He still cried. I took him outside again. Nothing. One minute later he was back in his crate, this time right next to the bed, so I could tap the top of it when he began to cry. That didn’t work. I added a second towel inside the crate, thinking he might be a little chilly. Nope. I sat on the floor and petted him for a long time, trying to figure out why this little guy didn’t want to go to sleep. I wasn’t in bed two minutes when my cell phone started vibrating. It was 11:45 p.m.
Sam was frustrated. She has four papers due in the next week or so and has massive writer’s block. I left our bedroom and went into hers. I know my daughter, and I don’t offer advice unless she asks for it. She just wanted to vent. Sam was feeling a bit reclusive, holed up in her dorm room (her new dorm room, by the way), feeling a bit overwhelmed by the blank digital pages that seemed to mock her incessantly. She talked. I listened. I told her that my friend, Barb, was driving through Cape Girardeau on Saturday, and offered to drop me off and pick me up again on the way home.
“Would you like me to visit you for the day and maybe help brainstorm some ideas for your papers?” I asked.
“Yes, PLEASE!” she said. I could hear the relief in her voice and the smile on her face.
Ten minutes later she was ready to try writing again.
“I’ll let you go now, Mom,” she said. “I’m sorry I called so late. I know I woke you up.”
“You actually didn’t wake me up,” I confessed. “God knew you needed me. He knew I left my phone on vibrate and wouldn’t hear it. So he used Bruno to keep me up until you called.”
When I returned to our room, all was right with the world. Bruno was quiet, and Jim was snoring. And our daughter, though two hours away, felt a little better about the mountain she had to conquer. It took me another 30 minutes to fall asleep, but I didn’t mind. I was on God’s time. And, Sam, if you're reading this...know we are here for you whenever you need us. We love you.