Monday, December 14, 2009

3rd Monday of Advent: Feast of St. John of the Cross


"I am waiting to see the fount of bright light, although 'tis night. Come, Lord Jesus."

Another sleepless night. I'm so so tired, yet I'm still awake, destroying any chance for a productive day. I'm beginning to think I'm not just an insomniac, but I'm downright in sin with this thing. My mind races at night, and depression peaks in those familiar wee small hours. It's not all about the night watch, though I wish it were. More often than not when I'm awake like that I languish in bed, spending countless hours watching television, or rummaging the pantry for food which I inevitably over-eat. Lord, have mercy. And what's worse, I'm avoiding what I'm really hungry for. Why, I do such a stupid thing I can't say.

My priest hinted during my last confession that the problem is bigger than my ability to handle it on my own. He said I should get counseling. So did Lisa. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but I haven't followed up on it. It feels for all the world like another thing to do, and I talked myself out of it. But I'm not making any real progress. Two steps forward, fifteen backward. I'm not here to be the same (or worse!). In so many ways I'm changing. Why deny myself this grace of healing the Lord keeps urging me to, in so many ways, and through so many people? All he wants to do is heal me. The worst is over. I survived it all. I can look back in order to go forward.

Right???

Sigh.

I ask for mercy. I'm given it abundantly. God even blesses me with lovely, happy days like yesterday. And then the night comes and I'm wild; feral like an animal in my soul.

I think that's why I love St. John of the Cross so. He knew nights. His may not have been as wild as mine, but they were just as dark. And it doesn't matter what suffering causes the darkness. Dark is dark. You can't see. You don't know what's happening, nor understand it. Yet, I find like John many starry nights, when bright lights penetrated the black. And that is a mercy.

John's words:

"Never was fount so clear,
undimmed and bright;
From it alone, I know proceeds all light
although 'tis night."

This morning, I want to see more of that light. Oh, Lord, help a sistah out!

So, I'm waiting. For the light of the world. Oh how I'm waiting for him in this harsh night of restless sleeplessness, so void of tenderness. The darkness drives me to destruction. Within it is a seething pool of anger at myself for things I can't change. "Come, Lord Jesus." Those three words have so many layers of meaning. Come quickly, gentle savior, and grant us wild-minded ones peace. And absolution.

mair-francis

5 comments:

Lisa said...

oh my do I know those sleepless hours well. the closing paragraph/prayer resonates deeply today, and I find myself praying along with you.

GailNHB said...

Great days. Tough nights. Long days. Short nights. What a journey this life is, girl, what a journey. Your honesty moves me to my knees and to my journal. Thank you yet again.

Yes, the dark nights do come. And they help us appreciate the rising sun and the glorious moon so much more.

May you, dear Mair, sleep in heavenly peace this night, sleep in heavenly peace.

ragamuffin diva said...

Thanks, Lisa and Gail. :)

I thought I was a bit whiny. I'm moved by your grace. And God's. When I finally did go to sleep I had the most wonderful dream. It was about this group of people and all of us were trying to perform. The performances were not just acting, they were character building, joy-making, life affirming performances, but we were all underdogs, undisciplined, and insecure. We we're finding the joy. This acting coach sat us all down, and told us that we had to perform beyond our abilities, but we couldn't do it unless we relied on one another. It would take hard work, but together, mutually supporting one another, we could win the competition, and go on to happiness and success. But the coach didn't just talk to us. He told us talk was cheap! He actually showed us how to take care of one another. And really, much of the ability to achieve depended on this. The last scene of the dream, the team I was on, one of the ladies got discouraged. She was holding a wooden plague that had the word, "Believe" on it. But she broke it, and seemed utterly discouraged by the fact that she had broken it. So much, it incapacitated her. But the coached urged her friend to help her, and they hurried, grabbing glue and whatever it took to fix the broken plaque. The music onstage was sounding, and they only had a few seconds, but I had a sense that the players would be fine, because the lesson was in the whole process, not just what happened on stage, and they had learned it. I woke up with this amazing sense of peace, and a feeling that I'd watched the most wonderful, feel-good movie, full of music, and gorgeous themes,and characters you fell in love with and cheered for. A sure sign that God was in it.

"Believe."

Even if your belief is broken, together you can put it back in order and go on with the show.

God is good.

Lisa said...

mmm... a lovely dream indeed!

Erin Wilson said...

No words to share. Just a little love.

xo

ps. yeah, the counseling thing... yeah.