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.
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.
"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.