Maybe I will die young. Maybe, like most of my relatives, I will at least approach 100 years here on earth. Who knows?
All I know is that due to my old friend insomnia I will have been awake more than those who lived as long as I did.
On nights like these I think of Christ in the garden. He asks his friends to watch and pray with him. Yet they falter.
They must sleep.
And Jesus, in his quiet moments before it all goes down, sweats blood alone.
I am not sweating blood this night. Yet I am surrounded by the sleeping. And I wish I were one of them: blissful, safe and sound, unaware of the beasts that haunt the few dreams I am given when I do sleep, unaware of the beast I can be in these dreams…such things can haunt even your waking hours. But maybe that too is a gift.
And in the garden Jesus found strength for what was to come in real, pleading, prayer. I hope I can follow that example.
I hope I can use the time I am given well.
And just as in the days after that Passover, Spring comes.
In that spirit and in expectation I have changed my header photo on the blog tonight. May the coming Spring find you hopeful. And whatever comes – may you wake to the wonder that hides behind the sometimes brutal dreams of this world.