Let’s Count to 100.

There I sat, feigning sleep in an attempt to put both of them to sleep.

They were twins. We had a busy morning filled with made-up games—as they all are—running around, sitting down, and doing this and that until it was time for a nap. I was under the impression that, after all that rigorous movement, surely the children would be in dreamland as soon as their heads hit the pillows.

Well, that was an adorable little assumption.

Surely, They Would Sleep

After carefully placing both of them in their individual cribs and whispering, “Time for a nap,” I sat between the cribs on a pillow and closed my eyes.

This was me demonstrating what time it was. But before I could even say Jack Robinson, I heard them whisper.

They then proceeded to stand, jump as though on a trampoline, and free-fall onto their mattresses.

My lesson on taking turns seemed to hit the wall while we played with toys. Or so I thought. They had exhibited such prowess in waiting patiently for their turn to engage in contrary activities. It was as though they were testing to see if I had mastered my other class in “waiting.”

They almost called my bluff.

But through prayer—MUCH PRAYER—I settled on waiting patiently. I knew that they would eventually wear themselves out and sleep.

They did. Eventually. It only took a millennium.

Now, I have been told I have extraordinary patience, which I credit to the Holy Spirit. However, on this particular day, I was struggling to engage that patience.

The days prior to this had been rough. I had not been attaining maximum rest. As they giggled and flopped onto their mattresses, with the spring attached to the bed giving them a cheer, I kept asking God to please settle them down.

After some time, one of them finally gave up and slept. I remember whispering a thank you, followed by a prayer request to have her sister sleep too.

Her sister, on the other hand, had other plans.

I kept praying, and I remember almost giving up.

I started to make peace with the fact that I was not going to get both of them to sleep. But before I gave up, I made one last prayer that changed something.

I said, “God, I am going to count to 50, and if she is still jumping, I will get her out of her bed and go.”

I had been holding pee with the hope that it would not take them long to sleep. It never did—until today.

So, I began counting.

The closer I got to 50, the more her jumping intensified.

In hindsight, I think the intensity of her jumping might not have actually changed. However, because I was focused on the jumping and on how soon she would stop, anything that was not the result I desired felt exaggerated.

Before I got to 50, I felt the nudge to count until 100. That was my last offer.

I kept counting and was determined to stop at 100, but something in me did not want to give up, so I kept counting beyond 100.

To what end? I did not know.

She still was not asleep.

She would pause her jumping, and just when I thought my patience had finally paid off, she would stand up and free-fall onto her back.

At this point, something in me had changed.

I had stayed, and I was no longer counting. Suddenly, I heard a voice tell me:

“Your timing is not My timing.”

I leaned in, and what followed was guidance. God was guiding me to stop focusing on the sound of what seemed to not be working and fix my eyes on Him.

Attempting to focus on God felt like rolling a stone up a hill because all I could hear was her free-falling.

I asked God for help to fix my eyes on Him, and He pointed out that I needed to be willing to receive His help.

I could only receive His help if I released every other thing. This included my focus on what looked like a disappointment.

With the help of the Holy Spirit, I managed not to focus on the sound for a minute, then two. Then the duration of my focus on being still kept getting longer and longer.

I would drift to the sound, then quickly strive to get back to stillness.

By the time I noticed there was no more sound coming from her flopping, my focus had changed.

She had finally slept.

I opened my eyes and gave thanks to God before quickly dashing to relieve my bladder.

The Lesson

This moment was so profound to me because, in that moment, God refreshed the lesson of fixing my eyes on Him.

He reminded me that even when I pray and wait on Him, there will be noises trying to distract me from the goal.

God is able.

If He does not do something, it is not because He is unable to do it. He may simply be saying, “Wait,” or “No.”

But in everything, His ways are higher than ours, and our timing is not His timing.

What was done in 10 years, God can do for you in a minute.

It is easy to say, “Wait on the Lord.” But when the testing comes to see if we really are about what we say, then we get to find out if we, too, are about what we speak.

What I Took Away

I was reminded that waiting is not the same as doing nothing.

Sometimes, waiting means staying.

Sometimes, it means praying.

Sometimes, it means resisting the urge to react to every noise around you.

And sometimes, it means fixing your eyes on God when everything around you is telling you to do otherwise.

The twins taught me something that day: my frustration did not change the timing, but changing my focus changed my experience of the waiting.

I am here today to remind you to fix your eyes on God.

Wait patiently on Him.

And lean not on your own understanding.

With Love,

Jo.