When, at 1:00 am, our neighbor rises
for his nightly ritual, plinks a bit, then—
perhaps inspired—passionately pounds out
“When I Survey the Wondrous Cross,”
my husband refuses to survey anything,
keeps his eyes shut, plugs his ears. I stumble
to the nearby crib, nurse Baby to (next up)
blind Fanny’s “Blessed Assurance.”
None comes to me. My child accepts the loud
lullabies and coos—eventually. My husband snores
harmony, but by 3:00 am, I’m asking,
“And Can It Be That I Should Gain”
even a second of sleep? Sure, “I Love
to Tell the Story” of “Standing on the Promises,”
but all I can do is “Count My Blessings” until
“Mine Eyes Have Seen the Glory”
of finally 4:00 am, and then, Oh, “Amazing Grace”!
(the practice ends) “There Is a Place of Quiet Rest.”
Previously published in Fare Forward and in Begin with a Question (Paraclete Press, March
2022).
Photo by Laura Seaman on Unsplash
