July 10, 2013

It will be Okay in the Morning

via Kipi

Early this evening, I dashed to Fully Booked to pick up a book I reserved a week ago. It was a copy of Ann Lamott's Bird by Bird and I clung to it as a toddler who is in his first day in kindergarten would to his mommy. The book had good reviews plus I loved the author since I've read Traveling Mercies. But that's not really the point why I so rejoice about finally getting the book today. Tonight. I have something to keep my mind so busy, busy enough to rest from thoughts which pressure, question and constantly evaluate where and how I am. That is among the million things I love about books - they lift you from wherever you are and drop you into stories every word of their every page weave. And there is nothing I would want more right now than to get picked up from where I am and get dropped over pages and pages of good news only. Dear Universe, that is all that I can handle now, good news only. Good news only.

This frustrating, heart-wrenching, sleep depriving feeling multiplies a thousand fold when I turn off the lights before I get to sleep at night. Am I shortchanging myself? Am I where I am supposed to be? How can I be of service to my family better? How do I pay the bills? How is my aunt now that her husband died? Is Tito Mar happy in heaven? How do I make my dreams come true? Dear God, I really want to have my own place! How do I get my roommate to clean her space in our shared room? Jesus, I'll be 30 in three years! Will I be able to send my kids to really nice schools? I meant future kids because I have none as of the moment and yet my thoughts are already on them. All these and a million more set my mind in a dizzy and frantic state and my heart beat with a panicked rhythm.

I would most of the time concede to helplessness and do nothing else but pray. And my prayers would always be: "Lord, please, please, please, I hope it is morning already. Please, please make the sunrise happen now. Lord please, please..." This prayer is partnered with frantic tossing and turning, sometimes with tears, sometimes with throbbing neck and head. The word "please" will be uttered a hundred times more until a dreamless sleep finally comes along.

And then the morning will eventually come. Along with the sunrise. Along with the busyness of the start of another day. I will feel my heart and run through my thoughts to see if they are alright, if I am alright.I would chuckle at the thought of the pointless drama I allowed myself to drown in the night before. Drama Queen. What a waste of energy and time. But the night before seemed so much a big deal, the fears were so real. My waking up to daylight zaps all the worries and fears and tears and leaves me with hope. Lamott game me the best ever definition of hope in the introductory part of her book: Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work. You don't give up. 

This is essentially why I love mornings and the daylight and the sunrise and the gay chirping of birds and gentle barking of dogs at the start of a new day. The gift of a fresh start. Of hope. That everything will be okay.

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