There is something so magical about the nighttime for me.
I come alive at night, I find hope at night, I find purpose, inspiration, and meaning in life.
It’s as though every night is a new year for me.
Every night I think over my day and I reflect on what was good.
What wasn’t good.
Where I went wrong.
Where I went right.
I sit on the couch and I think over the choices that were made, the moments that were had, and I love it.
I look over at my husband fast asleep on the couch beside me, because even though he’s tired, he still…after 11 years…wants to be next to me as much as possible.
And then I think of those silly insignificant moments I showed frustration.
The things I got annoyed at that I know I’d truly end up missing if they someday stopped.
But somehow, the magic of night gives me hope.
I consider all that I have, all that I long for, all that I dream of…
and at night, I believe in all of it.
At night, I believe tomorrow will be different.
I’ll be better.
I’ll do better.
I’ll love better.
I’ll make healthier, wiser, more loving decisions both for myself and for others.
I believe all that, and I promise myself…tomorrow will be that much better.
But sometimes tomorrow isn’t all of that though.
Sometimes tomorrow brings more of what the day before had, only worse or harder.
I mess up bigger.
I repeat the same selfish mistakes.
But then night comes again, and it all comes back to me.
Reflection.
Hope.
Magic.
Or maybe it’s God.
Maybe in the busyness of the day, in the craziness of taking things into my own hands, I lose a bit of Gods power.
I miss out on His magical presence.
But at night…
when all is still and quiet and I’m still and alone…
I am overwhelmed in His presence…
And it’s magic.
It’s hope.
It’s God.
And it’s Good.
