Great post...

By someone I've never met, but whose words and stories I have come to look forward to and appreciate every day...

http://www.sarahmarkley.com/2010/01/afraid-of-the-dark-2/

“MAAAM!” I can hear her calling me through the closed doors and through the sleep I’m fighting to wake from.

In green the clock burns my eyes: 2:45. I hear her again, muffled. “MaAAaMa!”

I recognize that my three-year-old is calling for me. As I swing my legs out of bed to find her, her calling is louder and more desperate.

“What is it honey?” I ask as I find her sitting up in bed, crying. “Was it a bad dream?”

“I dreamt someone came and stole Night-Night-Kitty.” She wailed. “Where is she? Can you find her?” Naomi wanted me to find her beloved stuffed white cat.

At 2:53 in the morning, I tip-toe past the dog snoring on her bed to search the downstairs. I peek into the dark playroom. I look in the toy box. Night-Night-Kitty is nowhere. I suspect that she might left in the playhouse in the backyard but I am NOT going to venture barefooted into the moonlit yard at this hour.

I return with her favorite Polly Pocket doll to deflect the sting of not finding her cherished stuffed animal. “Honey, I can’t find her. But I’m sure she’ll show up in the morning.”

But she won’t be comforted. The irrationality of half-believing a nightmare coupled with the reality of not having Night-Night Kitty in hand is too much for her to handle. She can’t see a way out. And at 3am, nothing feels fixable.

I coax her into bed with us and she finally falls back asleep, clutching her tiny doll in one hand.

In the morning, she forgets the Kitty and when she does finally look for her, her effort is not nearly as concentrated and her need not as acute as the night before. She looks for her casually throughout the day.

Because nothing seems as bad in the morning.

Maybe it’s time that helps. Or the sunlight. Or even the noise and activity of a new day that helps to blunt the blow of heartache. But either way, it’s never as bad in the morning.

The morning is always better than the tears that wake me up at 1:14am, 2:25am, 4:08 am.

The height of the pain is usually in the dark, in the middle of the silence, when it’s just me and my thoughts and the panicky feeling when I know I can’t, in my sanity, endure it.

So I can’t believe the nightmare. I can’t be taken in by the silent house, the fear that builds in the dark. I can’t give in to hysterical worry.

And neither can you.

Just wait. The morning will be there soon enough and even though the problem has not changed, you have. Because you will get up, you’ll splash some water on your face and you will do what you need to do. The sunrise and the day will help. Your responsibilities will help. And you will be strong enough because you rely on the One who gives strength.

You won’t be afraid because its a new day.