It is during this time of the year that I generally go into an emotional cocoon;
my own kind of hibernation and self preservation mode.
December 1st until January 2nd, my internal sensors (censors) go into a Lockdown setting.
Life is hectic, loud and screaming with white and pink noise.
I need a celestial graphic EQ (equalizer) to take out the nasty sonic peaks and hisses of the daily grind.
Ah, were it that easy.
Maybe there’s an app on the Iphone for that.
The only place that I can find some silent respite is when I fall asleep.
But sometimes even sleep doesn’t work.
The other night (this just came to me now) I was dreaming that I was standing in the middle of some godforsaken superhighway with cars and trucks whizzing by me at what seemed to be light-year speeds.
I could feel wind on my face but the cars and 18-wheelers were just horizontal blurs of colour.
I was frozen, frightened and couldn’t move without getting reduced to a platter of road kill.
I did finally wake up at 3:03AM.
My skin was clammy and I was thirsty.
I went downstairs and got a glass of water and back up to bed where I began tossing and turning my nocturnal thoughts like a mad chef tosses a freshly ordered Caesar Salad.
At 5AM I got up and made coffee.
The act of trying to sleep was maddening.
This dream was symbolic for me and the perfect allegory of my life.
It also made me think of a story someone once told me.
It could have been told to me by my mother – but like my dream’s unknown ending, I just can’t remember.
I do remember the story though.
Its author is unknown so I’ve taken the liberty of changing the POV.
This story inspires me and brings hope to the heart because a worldly truth is that we are all in this thing together.
I was at the end of my rope. Seeing no way out I dropped to my knees in prayer.
“Lord, I can’t go on,” I said, “I have too heavy a cross to bear.”
The Lord replied, “My child, if you can’t bear its weight, just place your cross inside this room. Then open another door and pick up any cross you wish.”
I was filled with relief.
“Thank you, Lord,” I sighed, and did as I was told.
As I looked around the room I saw many crosses, some so large the tops were not visible.
Then I spotted a tiny cross leaning against a far wall.
“I’d like that one, Lord,” I whispered.
The Lord replied, “My son, that’s the cross you just brought in.”
During this holiday season, it is my hope and prayer that the burdens you carry in your hearts today will seem lighter and somehow more distant tomorrow.
Pax . . .