A sucker, a snorer, and a hacker

Our kids are really good about sleeping in their own beds and sleeping through the night...until recently. Lately it's as though darkness doesn't matter and internal clocks are broken. Big Sissy gets up randomly because it's too dark in her room. Little Buddy is suddenly missing mommy at 3 a.m. Last night was Little Sissy's turn. She just wanted to be held at 1 a.m. I let her climb into our bed because, frankly, I didn't have the energy to get up and take her back to her own. As I lie there listening to the cacophony of sounds we were making (Little Sissy sucking her fingers, Hubby snoring, and me hacking away with this annoying little cough that won't go away), I first thought of our brokenness and need for God. We need comfort (thus the sucking), we need healing (thus the coughing), and we need breath (thus the snoring). We were a chorus of need, a symphony of brokenness. Then all poetry and depth came to a screeching halt, ending the concert like a series of broken violin strings, and I just felt irritated. I am tired. I have hyper-sensitive night hearing, designed by God to hear a baby's cry--not to be kept up by a grown man's snoring or a toddler's early bird performance of "Happy Birthday to Me." I suddenly found the energy to scoop up sweet baby girl and take her to her own room and the initiative to move Hubby's head around until either he was in a better position or he was just too angry for a moment to keep snoring. Suddenly I realize that my spiritual moments are so fleeting and the carnal woman inside of me is in need of redemption. I AM TIRED, PEOPLE!