You see the time set on my alarm clock for the morning. You see the blazing 4 AM serving as a reminder that I just had to purchase a stupid early flight for my weekend o' fun.
You also see me lying here. At 1:30 in the flipping morning. Just as I've laid before you since about 10, determined that I would go to bed early to prevent the desires of punting small rodents and furry creatures across an extended distance from welling up in my heart and soul during my You-forsaken waking hour.
You see me mental calculating with each passing minute just how little sleep I'm going to get if I were to miraculously be smitten with your holy gift of slumber in the twinkling of an eye this instant.
And You, being omniscient in all ways- past, present, and future- can see me waking up in approximately 2.5 hours, gnashing teeth and asking you, "Why, God, why?" whilst begging for the sweet release of Benadryl to sweep me away during my flights to Chicago O'Hare and St.Louis Lambert respectively.
And therefore, oh Father, I ask thee that thou wouldest look down upon any mother that may, in fact, possess a potentially screamy baby or toddler who has considered getting on either of my flights tomorrow. And God, I ask that you would smite them upside the head and knock some sense into them so that I don't have to get all ghetto up in there. In thy mercy.
I thank you in advance for hearing and answering my prayers.