There are days that start harder than others. The worst come when you wake from a night a wrestling with inner demons and angels. The physical symptoms are always the same; a cold chill feeling, sweaty clothes, and physical fatigue that I compare to a long ride in the sun without any water to drink. Mentally I am exhausted. Emotionally I am drained. Physically I have less than when I climbed into bed earlier.
This is not a cry for sympathy. Rather, writing is a process of vocalizing my recognition that some days start worse than others. When they are at the darkest point, I know “I’m on the edge of losing it – the pain in my gut keeps burning.” (Psalm 38.17) By vocalizing and writing, I acknowledge the reality that many others find themselves. I know I am not unique. I also know that I have brought a lot of this on myself (admitting this brings a bit more darkness than I willingly admit). Life reminds me that in vocalizing where I am, I am asking Life and Divinity for help. I cannot do this on my own.
As I wrestled with the demons, I could hear my angels whispering that each moment of pain was a moment where hope was gifted with life. I could take the lessons and pain of the past and do something with them! I could use the struggle as a foundation to reach for something better. Even my tiredness was an advantage; communities are always stronger than an individual.
In the echo of my voice on an otherwise silent vision of a new day’s beginning, I realize that everything ahead of me is a choice. I have the freedom to embrace a sense of possibilities. I can choose to let others help me. From a simple smile in replay to a stranger’s look to a decision to let others into my thinking, I hold windows of difference. Everything is potentially possibility if I am willing to act with faith. Last night’s darkness is a gift to today.
