When Restless Legs Don't Sleep

It's a gentle rock, a smooth motion - except for the occasional jerk and jolt - like the rocking of a mother with her child, like the sway of a cradle, like the roll of the ocean waves. It is a new experience, this travel by train. From one side of the country to the other. Chicago to Albuquerque. Twenty-five hours of continual, smooth motion. The clock ticks on. The hours grow late, then early. Nights are short when sleep comes easily, and yet they drag on, each moment seeming an eternity, when no sleep comes. My body, fighting illness for the third time in a month, begs for sleep, but my restless legs have a different idea in mind. My eyes long to rest during these early hours as they are accustom to do at this time of night, but my aching back doesn't agree. I take my book to the lounge car so I can read without disturbing the peaceful, sleeping passengers with the light. Quite a contrast now from the boisterous group of adolescents  that flooded the seats before. A few like minded souls scatter the seats; one reading, two talking, another on the phone - the remains of a midnight snack littering the table before him.

I think over the past 5 days. Packing, flying, driving, sitting, talking, laughing. Meeting new people, seeing old friends and acquaintances, listening to hours of lectures, great cafeteria food, fellowship. It all sped by so fast. It jumbles in my head begging to be sorted and processed. Courage, faith, leadership, fathers, vision, discipleship, hospitality, work, rest, play, and taking dominion. What else is there to do at this time of night?