For whatever reason, my bedtime has become later and later. Although I was a keen critic of my teenagers for staying up till the wee hours, the past few months have seen me following suit. I’ve had to eat my words that “nothing good happens after midnight” since God often gives me blog-insights well after that.

At first I tried to camouflage my new “bad habit” by telling the kids, “Last night was just a fluke. I’m still a morning person.” But as the weeks have passed, my lark-ness has morphed into owl-y-ness. Even Jack has complied, dragging around all morning like a record at 33 1/3 speed but zipping up to 78 at night.

If I was living alone, I could sleep late without guilt and have breakfast at lunchtime, lunch at dinner. But with steady stream of visiting family, girlfriends, grandkids and neighbors, coming downstairs for my first coffee at 10:30 doesn’t seem appropriate.

Last night I crawled into bed after 3:00 AM. My final words to the Lord before sleep were, “I know. This is ridiculous.”

This morning God announced a new program for me. Just as he provided a worm to eat Jonah’s biblical vine to get him up and going, he provided a tiny critter to nibble me awake, too. I never saw it, but my best guess about the sharp jab in my arm was a spider. Although we’ve seen quite a few innocent daddy-long-legs in our basement, I’ve always told skitterish kids that spiders aren’t interested in making the two-flight climb to the bedrooms. But when God says go, animals do.

Nate was right when he repeatedly said our battle against woodland critters would be ongoing, since we lived on the edge of a forest. We agreed it would be pointless to call pest control, sort of like trying to keep the bottom of a boat from getting wet.

After this morning’s wake-up, I noticed the clock said 8:00 and knew I needed more than five hours of sleep before tackling my long to-do list. But as I was drifting away, another “ouch” grabbed me, and so it went for 45 minutes.

Ouch, awake, asleep.                Ouch, awake, asleep.

God persevered, though, and eventually I got his message. My thought had been more sleep; his was more hours in my day.

One of the magnificent things about God is how creative he is in achieving his goals. That’s good news for those of us who hunger for his participation in our lives. Oftentimes he allows painful circumstances, but being the recipient of God’s personal attention always includes a positive undercard. If we’re willing to respond, we’ll eventually experience the good stuff.

This morning’s unique wake-up call left a welt that’ll disappear tomorrow. Maybe tonight God will prompt me to simply set my clock. Or maybe he’ll direct another critter to climb the stairs. In the mean time, where’s that number for pest control?

^“The Lord God provided a vine… to ease [Jonah’s] discomfort, and Jonah was very happy about the vine. But at dawn the next day God provided a worm, which chewed the vine so that it withered.” (Jonah 4:6-7)

When a child is learning to walk, she falls down repeatedly. As she masters a toddle, her falls become less frequent, although it doesn’t take much to throw her to the ground. But she hops up without damage or discouragement 99% of the time.

An older school child doesn’t fall as often but doesn’t pop up quite as readily, either. There may be tears or a need for a cartoon-enhanced bandage, but she heals up quickly and soon forgets her tumble.

By the time we’re adults, falls are nearly non-existent. We’ve become good on our feet and sure of our steps. If we do go down, it’s quite a crash, and getting up again is awkward at best. Often we feel the effects 24 hours later when muscles stiffen and bruises appear.

A year ago today, Nate fell. Because his cancer diagnosis was new, we weren’t sure what had caused him to wobble and lose his balance without warning. I heard the collapse from the next room, but Nelson and Klaus were mere feet away and sprung to his aid. As they lifted him from the floor, Nate dismissed it as nothing, saying he tripped over his own feet.

But he had wacked his head on a door frame as he fell, giving himself a plump goose egg. The next day I reported the mishap to Dr. Abrams, who disagreed with Nate’s comment that it “was nothing.”

“With his body already working overtime to fight cancer,” he said, “it doesn’t need a brain bleed.”

Despite Nate’s frustration with another test, a better-safe-than-sorry approach seemed wise, and he willingly endured the scan. Thankfully, he’d been right. It was nothing, although I thought the bruise on his head ought to count for something.

When it was all over, the fall had traumatized the rest of us far more than it had Nate. To witness him going down was to feel sudden shock. Yet we all decided not to blow it up into more than it was, hoping he wouldn’t fall again. Sadly, he did, two more times.

I’ll never forget how Nate consistently minimized his misery during those horrendous days. Rather than complain, which we would have understood, he would bear his pain in quietness. When I think about it, it makes me wince.

Complaining comes easily for most of us, not necessarily about physical pain but about things much less worthy. Nate’s example puts me to shame. His acceptance of the way his life changed toward the negative was remarkable, and I’m trying to emulate it.

God doesn’t like whining. Scripture refers to it as murmuring or grumbling. Although we think complaining will make us feel better, it only spreads our misery to others. A better approach is to talk to the Lord about it, knowing he’ll set us straight and teach us how to combat whining with gratitude.

Nate’s falls were physical, but all of us can fall without even hitting the ground… by falling into sin. God watches to see how we’ll respond to trouble. Will we make things worse by whining? Or will we bear up under our difficulties in quietness.

Although Nate did fall, he didn’t fall down on the job. And I’m really proud of him for that.

“Now the people complained about their hardships in the hearing of the Lord, and when he heard them, his anger was aroused. (Numbers 11:1a)