Genesis 15:12 And when the sun was going down, a deep sleep fell upon Abram; and, lo, an horror of great darkness fell upon him.
1 Samuel 26:12 So David took the spear and the cruse of water from Saul's bolster; and they gat them away, and no man saw it, nor knew it, neither awaked: for they were all asleep; because a deep sleep from the LORD was fallen upon them.
Isaiah 29:10 For the LORD hath poured out upon you the spirit of deep sleep, and hath closed your eyes: the prophets and your rulers, the seers hath he covered.
Acts 20:9 And there sat in a window a certain young man named Eutychus, being fallen into a deep sleep: and as Paul was long preaching, he sunk down with sleep, and fell down from the third loft, and was taken up dead.
You never know what might happen when someone goes into a deep sleep, it seems.
I did not sleep at all Thursday night--Lizzie was up all night with an earache. Tim took her to the emergency room, the second time in less than a week, and they gave her a shot, a Tylenol suppository, and some ear drops, all of which barely dulled her pain. Tim stayed home with her Friday and, as the doctor advised, gave her breathing treaments periodically. So I kind of thought I'd sleep really well Friday night, but I didn't. I had the most horrific dream and then couldn't shake it at all, and finally just got on up around 5:00 Saturday morning. I did sleep three hours Saturday afternoon, though, and then again Sunday afternoon after this virus hit me. Hannah had it two days last week, and I thought by Saturday maybe the rest of us were home free, but it hit me hard and I'm still running fever and throwing up water, which is all I've ingested. So, anyway, I don't know what might happen if I were to actually ever go into a deep sleep. I wouldn't want to fall out of a window or anything like that.
I should've named this entry "deep sleep", and I considered it. Had planned to maybe expound on it and share some insights I've had about it, but then it just seemed I wanted to write about a road sign I saw yesterday: Bridge May Ice in Cold Weather. I remember when I was little, that sign used to scare me. We'd go to Forest or Newton and cross these little tiny bridges where that sign was posted, and I'd think it sounded so sinister, and I'd be afraid that one day it would be cold and we'd have to go to the A&P and risk our lives to cross the iced bridges and I'd begin to miss Mama and Angela and Harry because I somehow knew that they would not survive the crossing, only me, and I'd have to walk home the six or seven miles and tell Daddy they'd perished and then the two of us would sit in the rocker, with me on one of Daddy's knees and the other knee, Angela's knee, would be empty and it would be just the two of us, two instead of five, and life would never be the same because of the iced bridge. Never mind that in Central Mississipi the temperature only gets below freezing once or twice a year, and even then maybe only 28 or so and only until the sun comes up. Never mind that. It was one of those irrational fears of childhood. One of those ever-present-just-below-the-surface thoughts that kept you from going into a deep sleep.
So today I'm at home, and I'd thought I could get some sleep, but my stomach won't settle down long enough. I just read back over the last entry, and I did stop before I got too ridiculous. I hope. I'm still upset about not going this weekend, but I'm not blaming anybody or anything. And really, I will need the weekend to get ready for Pittsburgh, to cook and get the girls' things ready and my own things too. And after being sick, and Hannah was sick two days last week, I don't know about going anyway. But. It's Sugar Creek.
I think I'll try again to sleep and if I still can't, I'll get out some winter clothes and put away the summer things. Even though it's 86 degrees and I'd even considered sunbathing.
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