When I was younger, I had quite the difficulty falling asleep. Mainly it was because I wanted to be awake if my parents were awake (even if my parents were doing something as trivial as the dishes). So to help me fall asleep, my mom told me to find a place in my mind and talk to Jesus. I can’t remember if she ever even said the word ‘Pray’, she had just asked me to talk with Him.
So that’s what I did. And in my little dream scape, Jesus and I sat across from each other at a café in Paris. I don’t really remember the actual café itself but I distinctly remember where we sat. Two chairs with round, red seats and an intricate metal back sat across from each other, split by a round, white marble table. When I couldn’t sleep, that’s where I would go. I would tell Jesus about anything and everything. What happened that very day, crushes I had, and trips we were planning. Of course, He knew all of this information since the dawn of time, but He still sat there, smiling and taking in every word my 7 year old mouth could say. Eventually, I would fall asleep, feeling very safe and listened to. Sadly, as I got older, the tradition of sitting in front of that little café in Paris dissipated as my mind was filled with plans for the next day, worries, and trying, in vain, to get my mind to shut up and let me sleep.
Here in India I haven’t had the easiest time sleeping. It would take me 45 minutes of laying on two sleeping pads that have a tendency for deflating (a story for another time), and once I did fall asleep I would toss, turn, and wake up multiple times. I would wake up exhausted even after 9 hours of sleep. I tried to take a teammates melatonin to see if it would help me, and it kind of did but after one night of semi-restful sleep, the second melatonin pill I took did nothing at all. Eventually I asked another girl from a different team if I could have some of her Ny-Quill. That knocked me out for a good 10 hours. However, I still woke up feeling exhausted. I would take naps in our long auto rides which, with the very bumpy road, isn’t restful at all.
One day, as I was taking another unrestful nap in an auto, I found myself back at that little street café, on a corner of one of Paris’ streets. Jesus sat at our usual table, looking around and enjoying the sights and sounds of my dream Paris. I walked over to Him and He looked up at me, smiling. I sat across from Him and His eyes wandered around the dream again.
“I’ve missed this place.” Was all He said to me before I startled awake. I pondered what in the world Jesus could have meant for only a split second before I understood. My prayer life has been lacking as I’ve been on the Race (which might not make a whole lot of sense but it’s true.). Not that I would ever believe that not praying a lot makes me a bad Christian, but to have a grow a relationship with someone you need communication, even as humans! The Lord has been waiting for me at that café. Not that I can’t pray outside of that little café, but He didn’t want to force me to talk with Him. He waited for me to choose to come to Him, and I feel like that’s important.
“And therefore the Lord will wait, that he may be gracious unto you, and therefore will He be exalted, that he may have mercy upon you: for the LORD is a God of justice; blessed are all they that wait for him.” Isaiah 30:18
Now that I’ve seen how the Lord has waited for me, I will now wait on the Lord in all that I do.
