When I was younger I would kick, scream, and sob as night crept into morning. Desperation would begin to consume me as the time between rest and work became shorter and shorter, then I would yell at God for cursing me with this dreaded problem.
Then one day I just stopped getting angry. In a brief moment of clarity at some ungodly hour way past chamomile tea, warm baths, and Valerian Root I realized that elevating my heart rate to 175 beats per minute was not helping. Yelling at God wasn’t working either.
I reasoned that some of my best days had followed sleepless nights and some of my worst had come well rested. I came up with great ideas and worked out many of my problems during those wee hours. Since I was still awake when morning arrived I had the exceptional privilege of remembering them all.
Although God has not healed me, my quality of sleep improved once I let go and stopped worrying about it so much.
Sometimes accepting our limitations and choosing to live with them in peace instead of turmoil is the only thing we can do.