When the door is locked from the inside, the lights go down and turned-back covers invite the sleepy mind to rest. The will to sleep cannot conquer the silent judgement of a day of false confidence and propped up reality. The truth of who you are, to you, replays the day you can’t seem to leave behind. Patterns of stagnant patterns recycling the same thing, only different. There’s a lack of success in the successes you’ve had. Being just like Mike ends up being just like you, pretending to be like Mike. Sidetracks taking you off track in matters that don’t matter. Left of left field or too far right to see the center. Pointing to what’s missing but missing the point of why it’s missing. Holding on to things that are holding you down and pushing away for fear of being pushed away. Your heart phone is ringing and “that thing” that someone said is stuck on “play until acknowledged” in your head. Tomorrow’s hours become today and the battle for sleep becomes an all-out war to ignore. “Pick up the phone, pick up the phone!” Fatigue will temporarily end the struggle with dreams of horror and questions about why. The exhaustion that terminated in restless sleep didn’t bring satisfaction but life goes on and coffee energizes, and patterns repeat.
Ironically, that’s the call we never miss even if we don’t answer it.
Oh by the way, that was Jesus. Don’t worry, He’ll call back!
“I fled Him, down the nights and down the days;
I fled Him, down the arches of the years;
I fled Him, down the labyrinthine ways
Of my mind; and in the midst of tears.”
Francis Thompson
“The Hound of Heaven”
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