While my mother and I were discussing sleep (and lack thereof) recently, she made a rather cute comment which I shall endeavour to recount. We were discussing the trials of insomnia (oh, my favorite) and my mom was sort of indignant that I should find it a trial in any capacity.
"At least you have something to think about!"
By that she meant that I was a Christian, and when I'm awake in the middle of the night, I don't have to lay around (lie around?) worrying about the end of the world, or my finances, or anything like that. Rather, I can have some quiet time to spend with my Father in Heaven. I can pray, review memorized verses (which is usually pretty futile, since my poor memory plus a sleepy fog equal no recollection of things I may or may not have effectively learned), and do other profitable things.
So good point, mom, and thanks. At least I have something to think about!
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