God & My Alarm Clock

My spring break is over.

I successfully got both of my feet into my dorm for five minutes before a classmate reminded me of an assignment that I had forgotten. It was due the next morning.

To make matters worse, I was already planning to get up early to study for a Dr. Hensley quiz for the same class which started at 8 a.m..

What a way to end spring break.

All day I had taken great care to remain afloat on happy memories made in the previous 10 days with family and friends. Now it all dissolved into thin vapors of reality as I came dropping down to earth with a thud felt in my stomach.

This means I need to get up earlier than early.

With a sigh, I set my alarm for 6 a.m.. I was tired and already retiring several hours later than planned.

I could almost see happy dream clouds floating above my bed reminding me that head + pillow = sweet sleep. A great equation even if Jacob of the Old Testament had a different definition for the term “pillow.”

When I finally crawled into bed and happily avoided hitting my head on the bunk above me, I suddenly began to fear whether I would actually wake up to my alarm. Obviously previous scares from such things have left me scarred.

While I was praying (a nighttime habit from my childhood that I’m in the process of reawakening), I asked God to specifically wake me up the next morning. I knew that if I groggily "shut the noise off" and slept in even 10 minutes the chances of getting a good grade would probably move toward extinction. Then I promptly fell asleep.

There’s something incredibly relaxing about falling asleep knowing that God hears silent prayers in the dark.

PAUSE.
Imagine with me now what one might hear in our room during the wee hours of the morning as Amber occasionally moans and moves restlessly while our haunted water pipes CLICK and CLANK loudly overhead as if Scrooge's deceased friend, Jacob Marley, is on his way down. Kristina’s breathing is somewhat louder since she’s fighting a cold—though she’s been known to attempt to sing the Winnie the Pooh refrain in Russian. And I might be interrupting the atmosphere with sound waves that resemble sighs, "groans" (as Amber claims) and, on rare occasions, a few incoherent sentences.
UNPAUSE.

Suddenly I was awake. I realized that my alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but I felt strangely alert. This can mean only one thing. My insides twisted as the big foreboding words “I overslept” darkened my vision.

I grabbed my phone and flipped it open. The glaring numbers that stared back at my squinting unfocused eyes read 5:57 a.m.. Strange.

For “some” reason, I decided to checked my alarm settings and found, to my amazement, that in my sleepy state of mind last night, I'd forgotten to activate it.

Some people will call it “coincidence,” but I can’t. Rarely do I ever find myself laying wide awake in bed at 5:57 a.m..

Once again God had surprised me. He knew and He cared enough to wake me up.

Apart from feeling compelled now to argue the fact that there is no such thing as “an ungodly hour,” I must confess that I broke all Night Owl Codes of Morning Behavior when I actually smiled into the dim morning light that penetrated our dark room with its bluish-grey hues.

God makes no secret of the fact that He cares for every single one of His children. The real question is—

Do I care enough about Him to ask Him to be apart of my every day?