Pillow Prayers

I am listening to Foo Fighters at 6 am.

That is because I did not sleep last night. Again. I finally gave up at 5 and got out of bed. This is the second time in 1 week that I haven't slept all night. I also just realized that I haven't eaten more than 2 little pieces of pizza and half a donut since around noon yesterday. You know when my neighbors say they worry about me, I usually roll my eyes, but sometimes I think they have a point.

In other news, Michael Jackson. Go ahead and judge me if you have strong opinions on the matter, but I am super sad about this. I don't care who you are, premature death is always going to cut me straight in the heart. Heath Ledger, Natasha Richardson, I still think about them and just have to stop in my tracks for a moment to fathom God's timing, His hugeness, His control, not ours.

I said a few real hard prayers this morning before deciding to call it quits in the snooze department, telling God I don't understand why he allows me to be deprived of sleep sometimes but asking me to trust Him. I know that probably sounds ridiculous to some of you, but guys, some days that is all I know. I guess I'd just rather go through it all, the sleepless nights, the angry days following, with someone else in charge. I never have been (to my knowledge) much of a control freak. Which works to my advantage, I think, in the believing in God department.

I am what we call an ENFP, for those of you Myers Briggs fans, which means I am extroverted, intuitive, feeling, and perceiving. For those of you who are not fellow M.B. freaks like me, ENFPs (along with other personalities, I won't steal all the thunder here) have a pretty rough go of it sometimes. For instance, our minds will not. shut. off. sometimes and we can't sleep. Then, because we're extroverts and friendly and addicted to people (yet here's the catch: we need time alone), our friends see us the next day and treat us normally. [Oh good, Bubbly Bailey's here, let's chat about her earrings, or the book she's reading, she's always so excited to chat.] So we have to be friendly in return, yet I'm not going to lie to you guys--we're gritting our teeth on those days, trying to keep it together, praying for a return to bed. And you know what's funny, just hilarious? Sometimes when you are free to return to that bed, after 36 hours of awakeness, you're not gonna believe this but it's true: you still can't fall asleep. Because you have new things to think about first.

I remember being in high school Sunday School class and we were talking about silence as a spiritual discipline. I asked, "what's that like?," and my youth director gave me a look of grave concern. Which is comforting at the age of 17.

So, my point (something ENFPs don't usually have nor feel the need to have, btw). While on the surface we may seem all together and happy-go-lucky, there is a lot going on under the surface there. Constant brainstorming, meditating, rethinking, evaluating relationships, examining of self. So go easy on the ENFPs, please.

Also, I hope this brief little bit of insight into my brain helps you understand why I have conversations with God at 3 am about sleep, instead of world peace, war, politics, issues of the church. Sometimes there is enough turmoil and dialogue in my head alone that I don't have room for the rest of the world. Which is why I pray for stillness, and silence. I pray you all receive the same.

I get overwhelmed trying to understand all the nooks and crannies of the whole Bible, so I often just hang out in the Psalms, where it's poetic and musical and cushy:

"Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10)

The Gym

I've seen this episode a hundred times. Monica: I am not smitten! Phoebe: Oh you are so much the smitten kitten. I can't help but smirk ever so slightly, because I'm a sucker for that line, but when the episode is over I click off the TV. I know it is sapping my positive energy. Mom calls us to dinner. We had a late lunch, so I am not hungry, but I eat a bit. We watch part of another episode of Friends over dinner. Again, I stay until the end of the episode, but then I head to the gym.

I don my sports bra and tank, but decide to tote along my swimsuit as well. I think some hydro resistance will be good for my mind. It is racing. Well not exactly racing, but distraught and back and forth. My best friend's family is going through a crisis, and she needs some space, which I understand, but it is hard for me to provide it, yet at the same time hard for me to run at her with open arms; I am childishly hurt by the distance, knowing I shouldn't be but am nevertheless. My mom is in town visiting, so I am not sleeping in my own bedroom nor using my own shower. The bedroom I am lodging in is a mess. I tried to start shuffling items in between Friends episode number one and dinner, to move my bones and my sludgy, negative thoughts. I need better pay, better hours, more hours. I need one book that strikes my chords, so I can finish and snuggle and meditate in it, take comfort. Small to big, you name it, I want it changed. At the library today I allowed myself only one chick flick to take home, knowing that watching kiss after kiss would not be good for my psyche.

I get to the gym and decide to swim. The lanes are full, so I pause in the hot tub. It is then that I realize how many thoughts I have had in the last hour alone. The lyrics to a song my friends Dan and Holly wrote join the rest of my thoughts. "My mind is racing, but you are keeping pace, Lord." I pray, "please quiet my thoughts." I don't ask that He make me numb, I've learned in the past that ignoring things makes them worse. I simply request rest for the evening.

A lane clears, I seize the opportunity before another buoyant body might. I swim the length of the pool only six times, with breaks between. Wow, I am less prepared for this than I thought. I take peace in the exercise, though, in the deep breaths, in the semi-stillness. I head to the steam room. I am the only one inside the dripping walls. Another man joins me. He moves to lay down in the corner he has chosen, moves and makes noises like a flopping fish. I smile to myself, not out of rudeness but thankful for the entertainment provided. He is precious. He says something like, "Excuse me? Bebe?" All I gathered from it was that he was apologizing for interrupting my steaming session. I offer a smile that says, "you're not bothering me." Another young man comes in, doesn't sit down, just stretches for a few. We can faintly hear his pump-iron iPod tunes while he communes with us. The older man begins doing sit-ups and I think, never seen that before. Hmm. Both men leave and so do I.

I consider changing clothes and walking or lifting before heading home, but decide to soak in the hot tub instead. I let my hair down, gather my things from the locker room, head for my car. My body is warm, like a glowing ember. My feet are red with heat. There is a woman walking to her car, she looks a little sad, perhaps. I look to see if there is a ring on her finger, wonder about her life, how old she is, hope that she will find love and be happy. Maybe she is just tired.

During the drive I switch the radio to the Christian station. Michael W. Smith is singing "God you reign." A second song comes on, the opening lyrics about God knowing the number of stars in the sky. I am reading a book about Abraham. God promised him descendants outnumbering the stars in the sky, and Abraham and his wife Sarah laugh at God, because they are old and barren. They each wonder and fight with God, "how do we become the parents of many nations if we have no child?!" Sarah even lets Abraham sleep with her maidservant to take matters into their own hands and attempt to create an heir. Time passes and God proves his truth by providing them with their own offspring, Isaac. I wonder about my own life, and relate.

One of my best friends is moving far away in August, another told me today he quit his job, is thinking of going back to Ohio or maybe Indiana. I laugh a little bit myself at God for the irony. I can't sit still for two minutes, have spent much of the last two years daydreaming about other places to live, yet He is asking me to be the pillar, to stand in place where I am until further notice. The adventure seeker, the girl who wants to have fish chew on her feet, has been asked to remain in Kansas. And her little cat, too. I know that God will provide the pieces to my creative future eventually, and in the meantime he provides my daily bread, just like he did for S & A. He is teaching me patience, this is becoming pretty obvious to me. Perhaps He wants me to be an example and a resting place for others, my friends running to and fro around the country and the world. A wise sage at the watering hole, available via telephone and email, who can prove that they can make it, since I've made it too. Some days it is just harder to remain at the bit and not charge ahead, is all.

I get home, turn off my engine but listen to the rest of a song. It is not until I close the garage door that I realize the other car is gone. Mom and Riley went somewhere, there is no note. I come into Riley's room to type this. I stop down the hall to give Dibbs a few finger strokes on the head. A few minutes later I realize he has relocated to recline on the floor behind me. Later he gets up to nudge the hard drive tower. Riley has a USB drive that is lit up on the end, red. Curious Dibbs moves his nose to it, and for a second he is Rudolph the Red Nosed CatBoy.

Prayer

About two years ago, when I was going through a rough, anxious patch of life, I started praying in the mornings. Not in a pious, sit-down-with-my-devotional-book way, just a quick breath, usually asking God to "go with me today." This morning the following came to me:

"Guide my heart, guide my hands."