It's been hard to sleep. I lay down and my exhausted body rebels. It's too hot. My skin itches all over. There are too many blankets. It's too noisy. The fan tickles. My legs feel twitchy. It's too bright. My mind whirls with a million plans, worries, and disappointments. Slowly, everything unravels and relaxes, and at 3 or 4 am, I sleep.
My thoughtful husband stayed home this morning and made breakfast so I could keep sleeping. I woke up to a small boy snuggling into my bed before he ran off to play. Then I woke up to the neighbor's muffler pointed into my bedroom window. Then I woke up to little footsteps skittering through the kitchen. It was glorious to fall back asleep after each interruption. When my eyes finally opened, I felt rested, beautiful, light, and hopeful - things I haven't felt for a long time.
Within a few minutes, however, I feel the weight crushing back on my shoulders. Life is heavy right now. I'm struggling with the stress of an all-consuming, life-changing project foisted upon me for the convenience of others. I think there is a little black rain cloud hovering over this part of town. A girlfriend is dealing with her husband's invisible injury. Another is dealing with heartbreaking family relationships. A neighbor worries over a possible major life upset and what that means for her delicate children.
I don't know any way to go on but to just go on. One foot goes in front of the other as we drag ourselves along. We all have black rain cloud periods, don't we? I'm exhausted. But somehow we make it through. There is nothing so wonderful as a warm summer thunderstorm, as wild and turbulent as it begins. There is a promise of a rainbow at the end of the storm - or at least clean-washed air and a peaceful stillness. And then we will rest.
