I went off to sleep in my usual style. Slipped under the covers. Snuggled up against my man.
My sleeping technique is rather simple these days. You might call it the Totally-Exhausted-Mom Technique.
Or maybe the I-Can't-Keep-My-Eyes-Open-Any-Longer approach.
Whatever you call it, this mom knows how to crash. And she likes to stay that way for as long as possible.
But then something happened the other night soon after I'd fallen into a deep sleep.
I was awakened by a strong sense that I needed to pray for a particular child of ours. Like right then and there and with all my might. No waiting for the morning or some other convenient time.
So I prayed.
And called out.
And cried out.
At 11:17 pm and 2:23 am and again at 4:12 am.
The strange part about this pressing need for prayer is that I had no specifics. No special situation or immediate problem. I only felt an urgent impulse to pray.