A winter night survived with no significant insomnia.
Monday morning with a familiar worry in my gut, but the comfort of a loving church family in my memories of Sunday. Someone looked at me as if I meant something. I was there, present, in the Now, in my jeans and flattering shirt and warming cardigan. Snuggled into a church pew, leaning back with my feet up, as comfortable as possible, to listen and take a part in everything the family has been up to this week. A hug, a smile, a friendly touch, an atmosphere where forgiveness was palpable. God in the pew right next to me.
With a lot of help from my friends I will get through this day as well, and the help is there, a rock beneath my trembling feet.
A phonecall from a bureaucrat that caused a wry smile. A chat with one of the widows across the balcony railing, leaning out into the bleak, rare sunshine of a Finnish winter. The beauty of the view and of casual neighbourly friendship. The constant fear of opening my email, vulnerable to the harshness of the world and its demands on me. The loneliness and the hope. One day at a time, hope wins.
2 comments:
Nice to know abt the lack of insomnia. A friend once told me that my poetry is the perfect cure for insomnia. Might like to try that out sometime . . .
'bleak, rare sunshine'.
Maybe that is why we prize it so much, because it is so little.
Thanks, will try the poetry idea! Am I supposed to write or read? Or put it beneath my pillow perhaps?
A similar cure has actually worked for me: listening to an audio novel (set at low volume). It needs to be a rather boring one though...
Post a Comment