I am exhausted.

It feels like a Friday, except that it’s Wednesday, but no, it’s Tuesday, and yesterday was Monday all day long.

Ever had a week like that?

It started when Eldest Daughter called at 12:55 am Monday to inform me that she had hit a deer. This is after she had been to a concert and then to the IHOP with friends. I am already on DEFCON Level 3 because of the late outing, but that ratchets up even higher when my pillow buzzes with an incoming call. 

Do any parents ever sleep well when they know their kids are out and about? 

But what is Eldest Daughter’s greatest worry? She turned around not once, but twice, to make sure the deer had gotten out of the road.

“Do I call someone to check on it?” she asked. 

If any PETA people are on here, just know I didn’t tell her to load it up and bring it home so we could make jalapeño summer sausage. It’s still on Monte Sano somewhere, and judging from the damage it did to her car, it’s probably with Bambi’s mom in the great hunting grounds in the sky, complete with a four-lane highway running through it.

I had taken some melatonin to try to drift off to sleep, but it did not work. I succumbed to the recliner. Somehow, staring at the ceiling in a reclined position seems less menacing than staring at the ceiling lying flat in bed. 

I think happy thoughts, but they scatter in my hyper-vigilant ADHD brain like cats turned loose in a tub of hamsters.

I doze, and toss and turn, but at least the dog had a good night. She is always glad to have a bed buddy, someone to curl up with and gently snore away the wee hours.

At last, there is morning light, and coffee and the Bible, so just maybe, I will make it through.

There’s something about the light that gives you hope. After a sleepless night of worries, the rising sun, even when hidden behind clouds, makes you feel like everything will be all right.

And it was. That morning light made the deer hair gleam in Eldest Daughter’s photos of her damaged car.  After making a few phone calls and appointments, she has leveled up in adulting.

It is truly not a big complication at all, unlike the tragic loss of two individuals I heard about today, in two different circumstances, seemingly way before their time.

I know little about their families, although there are people dear to me who are greatly saddened by their passing.

And that makes me sad too.

There is nothing to say that can take away the pain when someone passes on, especially so unexpectedly.

It puts things in perspective.

A little deer hair in the fender? It’s all manageable.

A night of lost sleep? That too can be remedied.

But for those in deepest pain tonight, 

who are mourning the loss of loved ones,  

who are caring for a family member in declining health,

who have a child in the hospital,

who are battling any number of concerns and worries:

Know that the light is coming.

Know that the Light has already come.

It’s not complicated at all.

And it’s even better with a cup of coffee and the Bible.

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“. . . the people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.”

Matthew 4:16