INSOMNIA at 3 AM: Words for God

"And now, Lord, what do I wait for?

My hope is in You" (Psalm 39: 7).

Some thoughts on the last three days are lingering around, behind my eyes, behind the dark lines under their sockets, lifting a silent voice of words of relentless wonder and expressions of enjoyment toward the mighty works of God. I feel less dependent on people, and more interested in what God will show me next. I have no interest in my readership, whether anyone reads this or not, I do not mind writing this, for I write not out of the pleasure for it only but for the Lord who hears and knows all. All the secret things are revealed in time. One day we'll all appear before the King, president's and kings alike will stand naked before Him, He who knows the answers to the questions before we will answer back. I write for Him.

I have worked three nights in a row (36 hours of work total), though that may be somewhat easy for others, I know that if I am yawning at 7 PM on the 3rd night the shift has took it toll. And I am persuaded that my sleeping habits are pretty much screwed up by now, but the motivation that I am preparing a living for myself, becoming more wise in the reality of what God said the Adam after he had eaten of that tree of knowledge of good and evil, that man now must toil labor to eat, to survive, and that "in the sweat of your face you shall eat bread till you return to the ground" (Genesis 3: 17, 19). Also, the satisfaction of going home while others must slave through traffic and the early morn to begin their day of toil is undeniably wonderful. At some point I know that, out of pure unadulterated spite, I'll open my sliding door on my Jeep at a red light and taunt some commuter in his Mercedez-Benz with fresh cappuccino froth still on his upper lip and sleep still in his eyes, which in turn he would most likely burn rubber, 0-60 mph in 4 seconds, which is when I would begin to pump the gas peddle so as to keep my engine from dying (I don't have fuel injection action, and still content). But that last motive is merely a perk--not the entire point, you see.

This is very unnerving to be up past 3 o'clock in the morning like an insomniac. Without work, in parts of the long duration when I yearn to be stretched out comfortably under layers of blankets and comforters, and after I've slept a good chunk of my day away when the shift is over and I've driven home, I'm at a loss for the desire to close my eyes. Work has yielded good material time and time again. For instance, on one of my breaks two nights ago, I went to the men's room with my safety glasses resting in my front shirt pocket and the next thing I know is that I witness for the first time in my entire life a pair of glasses falling (almost in slow motion it seemed) into the urinal. My face displayed a look of utter shock. Naturally, I reached in and grabbed the un-kosher spectacles and did as the Hebrews most certainly would had to do by Law if anyone had invented glasses at that time, I scrubbed those puppies with hot water and orange-scented hand soap until I heard them whimper.

I am consistently reminded of the accident last week when I sliced my hand, and when reaching for the First Aid box, fainted to the floor like a sack of cement, hitting my head on the cement floor. I'm called names like Lefty (since it was my left hand that was cut) and playfully and sarcastically asked by my supervisor, "So what was 'Nam like?" I think the bonding has increased proportionately better after all the machine operators and packers in the department had witnessed me knocked out cold on the cool ground. At least now I will spare myself of being puffed up, for it's hard to be proud when you have done what I have done. Vida es bueno.

Esta es la dia que El Dio creo,

Estoy celebro y contento en esta.

(Pardon any grammatical errors in my 1st year-ranking Spanish.)