Cussing at your alarm clock in the morning isn’t the best way for a godly woman to start her day. I love sleep. Maybe a bit too much. With a matted mess of hair defying gravity and dried drool crusted on the side of my mouth, I’m more Rip Van Winkle than Sleeping Beauty. Every morning I seem to go through all 5 stages of grief for the loss of my dreamy state.
- Denial– I hit that snooze button at least 3 or 4 times, assuming I can still get things done.
- Anger– The hubby comes in asking if I’m getting up, I not-so-daintily crumble “Leave me alone, I got 3 more minutes on my snooze.”
- Bargaining– That snooze alarm goes off. I tell myself, “Well I showered last night, if I do dry shampoo and a pony, I gain 20mins of prep time. You’re so clever; let’s set the alarm for 20 minutes from now.”
- Depression– My “redo alarm” goes off, and I languidly stare at the ceiling, saddened that my time has run out, and I must start the day.
- Acceptance– I slink out of bed and, looking at the time, am now in a mad rush to get out the door.
Now, this happens more often than I’d like to admit. My husband bests me in that he is up before 5am, reading his devotions, making coffee and getting ready for workouts. The Proverbs 31 girl wakes up before dawn and is getting ready for the whole day in those quiet dawn hours. Me, I’m productively stink-eyeing the alarm countdown on my phone for the fifth time that morning. .
My reluctance to wake has convicted me lately. It’s something that I could easily rationalize because I still get up before 6am, I work long hours teaching during the day, and am productive as a student at night, but I know that my life would benefit from the discipline of getting up before I “need” to.