Rule #1: Do not put myself in the position of being overtired. Rule #2 Never break rule #1. As a general rule, breaking rule #1 is usually a direct result of the need of one of the children, mostly Zoe, trumping my need for sleep. Well last night I broke rule #1 big time all on my own. I stayed up until after 1:00am watching a movie of all things even though I knew I was tired and knew I needed to get to bed. I rationalized it by thinking that today was Sunday and with Marc home I’d get an afternoon nap and all would be well. Big mistake. Hence rule #2.
Needless to say, breaking rule #1 always has consequences these days and today was no exception. By the time I managed to lay down I’d already been in tears a number of times, whether it was in conversation with friends, thinking about Bernadette, or just trying to nap. Before falling asleep I kept thinking of C.S. Lewis’ book A Grief Observed and how in his grief when he tried praying he felt like God slammed the door in his face and he was left to deal with his grief alone. It can be a very good analogy and when I first read his book I could so totally relate, but this afternoon another analogy came to mind, one that I don’t think Lewis used because he’d never been a father (in the sense of his own children).
What parent doesn’t want to hold their child tight and console them when they’re injured? And yet sometimes the child is in so much pain that they don’t even comprehend that they’re being held, all they’re focused on is their pain. They thrash about screaming and crying and it’s difficult for the parent to hold on and yet all they want to do is hold their child close and make the pain stop. That’s what I was thinking today that brought me to tears. Not only was God notclosing Himself up in Heaven and baring the door, (like Lewis eventually understood) He was/is holding me even though I didn’t recognize it, didn’t feel it, didn’t understand it, and don’t sense/feel His presence, only a closed door.
But now that I’ve written that, I’m starting to question my memory because I seem to recall that Lewis did on a few occasions mention remembering being a young boy. Maybe I should go back and reread A Grief Observed now that it’s been almost five months since I last read it and could probably understand a little better this time what he was going through.