I try not to have a myopic view of life, but sometimes I fail on that account. I remember on my wedding day that I went to the store on an errand. I recall thinking that it was odd that everyone was going about their business as usual. I mean, didn’t everyone realize that this was a special day? Twenty-year-old brides are probably some of the most self-absorbed people on the planet. Well, at least this one was.

Moms with a new baby might run a close third. (In case you’re wondering, two-year-olds take the second place prize.) As a member of the postpartum mom club again, the clue to why I might be a little myopic in my perspective is that in our nightly family prayers, the top prayer uttered every night from my lips goes like this, “And Lord, please help the baby to sleep longer tonight. Please.” It is customary for me to pray for wisdom, to pray for our children to love and obey Jesus, and to ask for forgiveness for the many sins I’d committed earlier that day. However, the way I see it now, I’d probably sin less if I got a few more hours sleep.

I had the privilege to play for a funeral yesterday. This was the second one I’d played for this year already, and this time, it was for the unexpected death of a man the same age as my husband. As with most people, I ponder my mortality at these events. What am I doing with my life? What am I leaving behind? Will they say that I was faithful? Will God call me faithful? How much time do I have left?

In light of the life-and-death significance of a funeral, does God care about sleeping babies? Of course He does. We ought to bring all things to Him. When we bring the dailyness of our lives before Him, we acknowledge His sovereignty over all things. The danger, of course, is forgetting that His Kingdom is big. When we bring the small details of our lives to Him, we ought to remember, too, that His kingdom extends beyond our four walls to the four corners of the earth. It is not only about the moment, but also about His Church that began with Adam and Eve and extends to future generations.

So, tonight when we pray again together, I will remember to pray that my new son will love, serve, and fear the Lord as His older siblings do—and that it will be the same for their children and their children’s children. Of course, I still will pray for him to give his mother a little rest… and I won’t say aloud which one I think would be the greater miracle. A little sleep ought to clear up the dilemma.