The Slumberless Party
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills,
from whence cometh my help.
My help cometh from the Lord,
which made heaven and earth.
He will not suffer thy foot to be moved:
he that keepeth thee will not slumber.
Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.
— Psalm 121:1-4
It was the middle of the night. We were in a cabin in a
state park, on a wooded ridge on the Platte River. Maddy and seven of her
nearest and dearest were having a slumber party for her 10th
birthday. There were hanyacks in the bunkbeds downstairs and hanyacks on the
air mattresses in the loft.
The sleeping arrangements among these eight little girls
were more complicated than the countdown protocols for a space shuttle launch.
First, it was four upstairs and four downstairs. Then it was six and two, with
the big air mattress dragged downstairs. Then it was eight and zero, with two girls
in each bunk bed and nobody on the air mattress. Then it was five and three,
with the air mattress dragged back upstairs again.
The birthday girl loved her new fuzzy slippers . . .
. . . but the iPod NANO sent her in to . . .
. . . HANYACK OVERDRIVE!!!
The thundering herd rumbled up the stairs to the loft. The
thundering herd rumbled back downstairs to the bunkbed room.
They made noise; I asked them in my most gracious Lady
Bountiful voice to be quiet.
They turned the lights on; I turned the lights off. The edge
was off Lady Bountiful's smile a little bit.
They whooped and hollered once more. Lady Bountiful encouraged
them to settle down, patiently and kindly at first, and then with more . . . VIGOR!!!
Finally, the thundering herd appeared to have quieted down. Asleep
at last? Please, Lord! My bleary eyes closed for an undetermined amount of
time.
Suddenly, screams and laughter erupted in the bunkbed room.
My bleary eyes popped back open again.
I staggered in there, to find the lamplight blazing and the
hanyacks bouncing around like monkeys in the circus. One of the air mattresses
had been dragged downstairs again. Two girls were text-messaging to who knows
who on their cell phones - probably pedophiles in South America.
Two more played with their hand-held computers. One was jumping
from one set of bunkbeds to the other. The rest were in mid-giggle. All were staring
at me with that slightly guilty, certainly rebellious deer-in-the-headlights
look that results from the sight of a grown-up in zebra pajamas with squinty eyes
and bedhair, shouting:
"WHAT is GO-ing ON in here?!?!?!"
I was the only one slumbering at the slumber party! Hmph!
They had been partying for who knows how long, while I snored away, oblivious!
I TOLD them to go to sleep! I THOUGHT they obeyed me! What if someone had
gotten hurt? Was I going to have to stay up all night to watch these kids?
In my best Sheriff Buford T. Pusser voice, striding
bow-legged across the obstacle course of sleeping bags and stuffed animals so
that I wouldn't stomp on anybody, and reaching over to snap off the light
again, I proclaimed, sternly:
"I . . . AM . . . THE . . . LAW!!!!!"
Silence. I realized as soon as the words left my mouth how incredibly
dorky that sounded, especially with my bedhair and zebra pajamas. After the
shock wore off, there were, of course, renewed giggles. Even snorts.
But finally, they remained quiet. Not another peep 'til
morning - 7 a.m.
AAAIIIEEE!
But they had a wonderful time overall. They had pizza in the
evening, waffles in the morning, and plenty of snacks in between. They played
board games and danced to Alvin and the Chipmunks. They went ice skating and
played in a giant maze. They went to a fascinating Leonardo da Vinci exhibit at
a nearby museum, climbed an observation tower for a great view of the entire
river valley, and went on a nature walk along the Platte with the honking spring
migration of geese overhead.
My Beloved had wisely gone home for the night. So his
arrival in the morning was truly like the cavalry. He took the girls outside
for the nature walk so I could go into the fetal position in the corner, bang
my head catatonically on the wall for a little bit, and recover my sanity. The
highlight of the walk for the eight gigglers was the sight of Maddy's dignified
father slipping on the mud on a steep hill, and falling - splat! - flat on his
back.
Which is exactly what I did when we got home late that
afternoon. Like me, I'll bet most of those who were at the slumber party did
some serious slumbering that night, in their own beds.
The point is, the slumberless slumber party just reminded me
how good it is to know that our Lord and Savior NEVER sleeps. He never misses a
beat. We humans may think people are getting away with stuff because those in
authority aren't looking, or are lazy, or don't care, or have fallen asleep on
their watch. But God never does. We are protected and watched over,
24/7/365/forever.
That's true for whatever is going on in your life, or the
lives of your loved ones.
And that's really, really comforting . . . especially since
you KNOW God never has bedhair, never wears zebra pajamas, and never has to
proclaim that He is THE LAW because . . . HE IS THE LAW!!!
Guess you just have to fall completely asleep before you can
wake completely up. †
