I tossed and turned, my sheets wrapping around me and my melancholy.

I’ve said it before, Mommy needs a good night’s sleep. And last night it just wasn’t happening.

Here are some reasons:

• I had worries about getting up early to buy and deliver breakfast to 22 kids at the church lock-in at 7 this morning.
• I do too much.
• Chris, my husband, is returning home tomorrow after a couple of weeks of being away. It’s an adjustment.
• I am worried about the expense and commitment of getting Chris help with daily tasks of living for his Parkinson’s Disease.
• It’s 9/11 weekend. It’s depressing.
• I’m not exercising much, because of my foot pain.
• I’ve focused too much on the kids and establishing their back-to-school routine.
• My bedroom is too hot; the air conditioner is too loud.
• I went to a MeetUp last night for writers who perform; had a couple of beers. Felt a little jazzed.
• I did not write much.
• I have anxiety about work and the possible downsizing of our agency.

I guess that’s enough. I finished Donald Miller’s Blue Like Jazz yesterday. I so identified with his discovery that we are open to forgive and love other people way more than we accept ourselves. The point of everything, every encounter — even our encounters with ourselves in the middle of the night — is love.

That is, instead of withholding love to change somebody, I poured it on lavishly. I hoped that love would work like a magnet, pulling people from the mire and toward healing.

This is tough. I have to find a way to love and forgive everybody, including myself; I need more help. Some problems can be resolved with more help and more love, and some with healthier behaviors. Here’s how I answer myself on last night’s worries:

Writing all this has helped. I need more coffee. Maybe later, I can sneak in a nap. (Or exercise.)