The Only Hours

It’s four o’clock in the morning.  I should be sleeping.

My thoughts falling down the rabbit hole that only insomnia can bring, including a chiding that was echoed by one of my children.  “You need to find ballance.”

I’ve always been emotionally clumsy.  Doing everything with all I have means obsessive type passion until the new shiny thing comes along.  Transitioning from part to full time teacher, made me a part time writer, part time mother, part time praying, part time everything, to the point where I felt pulled in every direction, and all of my intentions dissatisfied.   I knew I could be a good…insert role here, but in all things, I was serving two masters, and overwhelmed by every one of them.

Writing used to be the way by which I discovered both what I thought and why I thought it.  Now it sat on the to do list, a task I might get to, or not.

Meanwhile the world kept going on, adding tasks –bills, staying in touch, staying informed, going to appointments, grading, reading, cooking, cleaning, folding, every single action meant those twenty-four hours sped by, weeks by, and all the thougths stayed in my head and heart, and never spilled out onto the page.

Prayer likewise suffered.  All the normal methods I used for walking through life, connecting to God, and thus everyone else, felt stopped by the stacks of everything.

Some might tell me, “You’re still grieving,” and they’d be right.  I’d also tell them, grief stays on the list waiting to be acknowledged too, with me wondering if I’m so strung out because I’m keeping myself from grieving, or if this busy-ness, is how my psyche manages grief –work it through, sweat it out, tough it out.

I’d say, if that is so, it’s not working.

So at four o’clock morning, the Holy Spirit decided, “Wake up.” Wake up and pray, write, reflect, and realize, that while life is graded on a pass fail, Heaven, Purgatory or Hell, living is a process in which God is nudging us to accept His gifts, His graces, His love.

Grief is a form of love.  So is self care.  So is doing one’s best for hearth and home.  All of these things can be manifestations of our love for others, and thus our love for God.  All of them can be prayer, Martha prayers.   Writing, intentional prayer time, and being present, turning off the other roles based on place, is Mary prayer.  Both Martha and Mary loved Jesus, and my life needed the balance of Both And, not the constant imposter syndrome anxiety that came from Either Or.

I looked at the clock. Nearly four hundred fifty words in twelve minutes.  The Holy Spirit can be remarkable efficient when allowed to push the soul uninterrupted.   The moment I became aware of time again, I knew, finish up, get some water, and go back to bed.  Remember, both and.  You are never an imposter, you are you, and you are here to be a vessel for God’s love in whatever you do.

Be that, and the rest will happen.