Your word is, Arise!

 Your word is - "arise."  I laughed out loud and pictured her putting the ceramic butterfly with that word on it somewhere on her prayer table.  I see her room so clearly, even though I haven't been there to sit in the rocker and look past the prayer table and through the window to the vistas beyond for almost five years.

She always makes sure that her prayer table has little ceramic symbols that connect with both the seasons and life in the Spirit.  On the back of each symbol is a word that expresses some aspect of the spiritual life (like grace, peace, patience, etc).  Our ritual is that when our session draws to a close, I choose one of the symbols and turn it over to see what my "word" is for the next month.  There are ceramic snowflakes for winter and colorful leaves for autumn.  And now there are butterflies for summer.  At the very least I get a word that could inspire my spiritual attention for the next month.  But it is often so much more...

...like two months ago, when, at the end of our phone session, she shared that she had new butterflies, and a couple of them might not have words, but we would give them a try.  I chuckled to myself - I hadn't had a chance to share with her that during the past few months, I was moving away from using words in every prayer time and instead focused sometimes on being wordlessly open to God's presence - being instead of doing.  As my spiritual companion turned over the first butterfly that I picked (by her description of how they looked), she paused and said - "huh - there is no word."  She turned over the second - same result.  And the same for the third.  She was audibly perplexed - I laughed as I wiped away tears.  As she started to apologize for the failure to provide me with a word, I stopped her and explained that I got exactly what I needed - no word - to affirm this wordless phase in my journey with God.  It was loving and playful confirmation that I am seen - and loved - by my Soul Companion.

This month's word was equally on the nose.  

Arise.  Again I laughed and cried as she shared the perfect word for me.  By the time of this conversation with my companion, I had been on steroids for 14 days, and would be on them for several weeks more - maybe longer.  While steroids are helpful for managing a sarcoid flare up, they cause a host of unintended consequences that include significant sleep disruption.  As of day 14, I was averaging 2-3 hrs per night of sleep, usually in 15-20 min intervals.  I dread taking this medication and struggle mightily to cope with the sleep depravation, having moments where arising feels a bit like this:  

I've been here many times before, and by day 2 of highly interrupted sleep I find myself feeling edgy, frustrated and beyond exhausted.  My self talk can drift towards the unpleasant, especially in the middle of the night.  My body feels like the preschooler who is learning to tie their shoe laces and wants to do it themselves (no matter how long it takes) right as you are trying to get out the door to meet a tight and important deadline.  You want to be supportive and encouraging, but you feel the tensions arise as you acknowledge other realities.  You want them to just get over it (!) and in anger you drag them along kicking and screaming!  I can live this reality easily at 3 am.

Several years ago my spiritual companion suggested I reframe these middle of the night times awake as an extra opportunity to pray - an extra time to commune with God.  Pivot and adapt - tell a different story.  I made that mental change, and over the years, it did help.  Some.

But this time the interrupted sleep has been unrelenting.  Usually by the half way point of the medication my body starts to adapt, but not this time.  The cough provides good justification for working from home (no one wants to be around someone who is coughing).  Tomorrow I go on vacation for a fortnight, so the pressure to function as a rational adult while crazed with sleep loss will be over (yay)!  

But the nights - the arising time.  That can be a whole other matter.  I sit on the side of the bed reading until my eyes are almost shut, have a short time of prayer (mostly intercessions) then get comfy in bed.  And my eyes pop open and here we are.  I sit up on the side of the bed again and pray, until I feel very tired and try again.  I will fall asleep several times during the night and wake up soon thereafter.  Rinse and repeat - until I fall into a deep sleep of exhaustion right before daylight - and have to wake up before 7 am to take the medication and begin again, feeling this familiar sensation of disorientation and exhaustion.  I sometimes can catch a half an hour nap mid day, but that is the exception.  

So - how has reframing my "arising" helped me to cope with these unwanted circumstances?  Seeing this time as an opportunity to pray has been helpful - it gives the time purpose.  And there is something liminal about that middle of the night time - no wonder many orders of monks awaken in the middle of the night to pray!  But I still felt an "edge" to the time - something was still out of sync.  I finally heard it last night as I listened to my inner "self talk" with my exhausted body.  "Look - there is no reason for us to be sitting on the side of the bed right now.  You need sleep - you are relaxed.  You are okay - you are going to get comfortable, close your eyes and go to sleep!"  There it was - the kind of force that causes children to push back against whatever you are trying to get them to do!  I was not treating my body gently or lovingly - I was trying to force it to do something it deeply wanted to do, but was unable to do.  As soon as I heard it, my inner voice softened and I was able to change the script.  "We will sit on the edge of the bed and read and pray as many times as we need to tonight.  Whatever you need to get through this and heal is what we will do - together."  That's it - love of self in the same way I would love my neighbor or God.  Now I was arising!

I am on vacation for two weeks starting tonight at midnight, and will probably be awake when my vacation starts, even though I need to be up at 5 am to make a 6 am appointment.  I am relieved to have the break to not worry about doing pastoral work with unreliable filters due to lack of sleep (what a blessing thought bubbles are invisible); I'm looking forward to this break for a number of reasons.  And tonight, at 1:52 am and 3:15 am and 4:30 am, when I am wide awake and cannot get comfortable, I will arise, sit on the side of my bed, take a deep breath and pray.  I have some lovely books on my nightstand all ready for the next few weeks.  As often as needed I will arise and give thanks, arise and share concerns, arise and read inspiring words, arise and take deep breaths, arise and show myself the same compassion and care that I would show to someone entrusted to my care.  Because I am.  And so I will arise.

What difficult situation are you dealing with that can benefit from a reframe and a healthy dose of compassionate care?

Arising with love, compassion and prayer,

Kim