Insomnia

On weekdays You wake up. Clean up, dress up, go to work. then you arrive from work, clean up,  pray and go to sleep. On weekends there's cleaning up to do, chores to get out of the way, ministries to attend to until the weekdays start again. And then you come home, lay your head on your pillow, and, because you can't sleep, think.

You always hope that tomorrow would be different, that something would happen--a crash of thunder, a bolt of lighting, a sudden flash of inspiration, an epiphany, anything-- that would shake you to your core and make you sit up and take notice; something that would make you realize just what it is you're supposed to be doing with your life, what your plans ought to be, what you should be doing to achieve those plans. You pray for wisdom, and yet even as you do, you battle for faith, every moment a fierce struggle between all you think you know and all that you see happening around you.


You close your eyes and tell yourself that you know the answer to this, that it's simple, something you've been drilling into your own head all this time. You try not to listen to the daily "realities" that noisy everyday life throws at you, but still hear every single thing, because those voices aren't around but inside your own head, said with your own voice and with such urgency that a fear of losing grip is no longer some ridiculous statement made in jest but simple truth.

You admonish yourself for losing faith, for not being able to apply to your own life what you have been teaching others. These lessons are familiar but somehow distant and seemingly unattainable. You try to get back to that one basic lesson you've been taught, that everyone's been taught. You remember it and clutch at it and gasp because you have discovered that even though you know it, you no longer believe it. You have been so fickle, so wrong, so disappointing. How can anybody love anyone like that? You doubt yourself, asking if you've ever really understood the concept, ever really embraced the idea.

And then comes the silence. The chaos in your head somehow stops. You strain your ears, trying to listen, your body quite still. No one else is there, but an unexpected thought occurs in your mind, a thought that seems to speak in a gentle whisper tells you that the chaos hasn't really gone away, only paused midstream. That this is a battle you have to keep fighting all the nights of your life, that the easy way out is not an option, and that, come what may, you have the truth within you, residing in your soul, a hope stronger than all your fears and vague suspicions. And that even though tomorrow may be the same as today, that it may be tiring, for now you need to keep up your strength and sleep. Because even if tomorrow is merely a part of the cycle, its a day nearer to a fulfilment of the ultimate promise.

And so you sleep.