for the glory of it all…

I remember when I home schooled myself online during high school, I would stay up until 3 in the morning working. It was just me, a pot of Cafe Verona - sometimes Sumatra - and the silence.

Some of my best memories are sitting in that uncomfortable computer chair, working until the early hours of the morning, sipping cup after cup of coffee and…being productive. It was during that time, when the rest of the world had gone to bed, that I was able to focus, concentrate, and think.
My heart grew so much in the silence of those nights.

Later, during the Honor Academy, I became so exhausted when I had to wake up around the time that I usually would have gone to bed, that I forced myself to squash the night owl in me.
And even after the Honor Academy, I tried to teach myself to get into a “normal sleeping schedule” as my mom would say.

Moved back to Texas, got married, and started working opening shifts at The Buck. Again, getting up around the time that I would have been wandering down the hall to my room. My body got so used to waking up early that no matter what time I went to bed, I was up at the butt-crack of dawn. Up with the sun.  And then, of course, my “sleeping schedule” changed again.

Too many transitions, too many changes, no adjusting.

And I’ve beat myself up for the last couple of days. A vicious cycle of  being stressed out about all there is to do, but not having enough focus or energy to actually get it done. I’ll end my days with an overwhelming feeling of failure and of course, more stress.

But if these are my most productive hours, then these are my most productive hours. Sometimes I just can’t do the whole bed-at-ten-thirty-up-at-six deal.

A quad-one-inch-cold-breve-three-raw-espresso and another cup of coffee might have played a huge role in my nocturnal activity, but I’m thankful to finally be able to focus. Maybe all I need is just more caffeine.

Tomorrow, Christopher and I will have been married 6 months.  It’s still so hard to believe, but it’s halfway done with one of the worst years of marriage. Every married person I’ve talked to has said the first year is the hardest (of course, not at all denying hard years of unexpected circumstances through out life).

I can’t believe it’s been almost 6 months. Half a year.
It seems like just yesterday we were answering the “How long have you been married?” question with “a month an a half”.
But I’m also thankful to have “gotten through” the first half.
It’s harder than anything I could have even expected or imagined.
There’s so much to learn.
And the transitions really shake every foundation you thought you had.
I’ve had lots of transitions in the last year.
Lots of shakin’.

I leave for Minneapolis in 11 days, and for Marquette in 13.
I can hardly stand it.
It seems that vacations always come at the most perfect time.

I need Jesus.