My favorite things...

I woke up at three this morning and couldn’t go back to sleep. Over the years, I have developed an arsenal of sleep aids for these early morning sleep marches. Sometimes the first round works but last night, it took them all.

First, I pray the prayers of my childhood… God is good, God is great, let us thank him for our food, by his hands we all are fed, thank you, Lord, for our daily bread; Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, if I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Gratitude and assurance… gratitude for the gifts of life and assurance that my soul rests in the loving arms of God…sometimes this is all I need to remember to dismiss the sleep stealing night demons.

If that doesn’t work, I move on to memorized Bible verses. The first Bible verse memorized in Beginner Sunday School… Be ye kind… is my favorite. Short and to the point, it offers a wisdom way for living in the world of others. Be ye kind even when you can’t stand the smarty pants girl who jumps rope better than you do. Be ye kind when you are the winner and be ye kind when you are the loser. When you are grown and rearing children, be ye kind. When you are married, be ye kind. When your boss snarls at you, be ye kind. The runner up Bible verse is, “The Lord is my light and my salvation. Whom then shall I fear?” Life and its perplexing possibilities are always scarier at night for me. I can get caught up in a roller coaster of “what if’s” and scare myself further awake. This memory verse breaks the pattern. Sometimes I will sing the anthem in my head to hear the music of this passage, Psalms 27, and my breathing will shift as I hide away under the Rock in a weary land.

If the Bible verses don’t work, I move on to favorite hymns. “Oh, God our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, our shelter from the stormy blast and our eternal home. Under the shadow of thy throne still may we dwell secure, sufficient is thine arm alone and our defense is sure. Before the hills in order stood or earth received her frame, from everlasting thou art God to endless years the same. Oh God, our help in ages past, our hope for years to come, be thou our guide while life shall last and our eternal home.” This hymn has been my theme song through trials and tribulations. It is my theological statement of belief and I can sing all the verses.

Then I recite my motto. “Faith is the strength through which a shattered world shall emerge into the light.” These words came from one of my heroes, Helen Keller. If ever a life was shattered, hers was. And if ever darkness gave way to light, her life provides a pattern for me in times of darkness.

Last night, however, required the Alphabet Prayer taught to me by Pitts Hughes. It was her comfort during sleepless night hours. Beginning with the letter A, you name those you know and love whose names begin with A... Adam, Alison, Anna, Aidan… then B and yes, Cara, you are among the C’s. If I make it to the end of the alphabet, there are no X’s, Y’s or Z’s. Sometimes I will start at the end of the alphabet to make sure everyone gets equal time. Remember “Be ye kind”?

So this morning, I am refreshed not by sleep but by the remembrance of all that sustains me, a litany of love. Like the tee shirt says, Life is good… and bad and wonderful and awful and hilarious and sad and above all, a gift without strings attached. Thanks be to God.

Time after time...

I have lived on Sabbath Rest Farm for over ten years. Every day is the same and every day is different. The same daily work…feed the cows, feed and muck the horses and donkeys, feed the barn cats… and the same seasonal work… put up hay, plant a garden, can and freeze produce, birth calves, cut back kudzu and multiflora rose… come around every year. Like housework, farm work repeats itself endlessly. On paper, this might seem boring but this is how I experience it.
Every morning, I get to walk downhill to the stable, sometimes by starlight and sometimes in sunlight, where I am greeted by love. The cats, Smudge and Barn Bud, rub against my ankles giving cat hugs. Before they will eat their food, they insist on being loved back. Katie and Shirley, the donkeys, come stand quietly, waiting for a back rub. Dixie and Junie B welcome me with soft nickers. The hay smells sweet as I lay it out for breakfast. Dixie comes out of her stall kicking up her heels, bucking in sheer delight. Junie B walks by and gives me a shoulder hug. I turn on the radio and muck the stalls to the sound of classical music. The physical exertion raises my heartbeat and I begin to “glow” a little. No true daughter of the South ever sweats… we glow. After dumping out the poop wagon, I walk up the hill, stopping to lay my head on each horse’s shoulder, smelling the lovely horsey smell, and I am at peace. In the evening, I repeat this process as I bed them down for the night.
Going to check on the cows offers the same opportunities. Driving up in the Kubota, the cows see me and come. The calves run with their tails in the air, fleet of foot and full of joy. The old women, Annie and Fanny and Tillie, move slowly now but can still stand their ground at the feed trough. Little Ferd, who is not really very little at all, usually brings up the rear. I dip out the feed in five gallon buckets and carry one bucket to each of the three feeders. As I walk, Biscuit tries to nose her way into the bucket but Sassy pushes her away. I lay out the first bucket and all the cows gather around the feeder allowing me to fill the other feeders in peace. As they eat, I scratch ears, rub backs, talk to them, squat down and eyeball the calves. Their curiosity will pull them to you if you are patient. One of my lasting memories of my father is the sight of him squatting down, surrounded by his herd of cattle, chewing on a grass stem, watching and assessing them. Frozen winter, mucky muddy spring, dry dusty summer, crisp autumn… the routine remains the same but is always different.
Most of us live routine lives, not boring necessarily, just lives that follow a pattern. The pattern can change. Our location can change. Our work can change. Routine, however, remains. How we choose to live our routine can bring depth, richness and joy, or it can bring boredom and whining. The glitterati, the one per cent, the Kardashians and all the other media darlings, have lives that may seem exciting from the outside perspective. I suspect though, they have a routine life underneath the apparent glamour.
Thank you, Dependable One, for the routine of my life and faith. The daily rounds keep me grounded in gratitude as I touch and feel the gifts in my life. The seasons of faith…Lent, Easter, Ordinary Time, Advent, Christmas, Epiphany… give my soul structure as I make my way through the everyday work of becoming more like you. Love you…