I took the midnight to 3-something shift. And rediscovered the beauty of the night drive. Quiet. No radio, no ambient noise other than an occasional sleep-talk from Julia, or sigh from sleeping Scott. My family in my hands, resting, dependent on my alertness and care, but temporarily oblivious. Praying. Thinking, uninterrupted. The world dormant around us, deserted-looking farms, dimly lit closed gas stations and shops. My faithful gps companion occasionally advising an exit or a turn, one glowing light in the dark world. In the constant-presence of visiting and constant-something-to-do of moving from place to place, I appreciated the forced immobility, one seat, strapped in, alone. One way, ahead. A spectacular half-moon accompanying me ahead to the left as I zig-zagged southeast through rural flat states.
Reluctantly I woke Scott at 3:30, realizing it was actually now 4:30 in the new East Coast time zone, feeling my attention beginning to strain. It was time for a few hours of rest before the sun rose. I had forgotten how possible, and relaxing it is, to be awake when everyone else is asleep, except God.