The Never-Ending Battle

Ah, the never-ending battle...what's that, you say? Well, in general terms, I'm speaking about the never-ending battle for holiness. But this morning, I'm writing about something much more specific: the way this battle is waged in my life The never-ending battle to get out of bed.

Don't get me wrong; I'm not depressed or anything. I love my life. God has blessed me so much! He loves me so dearly, in fact, that he's given me a special cross: the kind that makes me just want to lay there all day in the warm snuggliness that is my bed.

This isn't my only spiritual struggle (and yes, it is a spiritual struggle), but it's a very pesky and persistent one. Maybe it's my temperament; maybe it's my upbringing. My farm-boy husband doesn't seem to have nearly as much of a problem with it...although, sad to say, I think I've had a bit of a bad influence on him.

I love sleeping. I love dreaming. I love the warmth of a slept-in bed. I love that happy time between sleeping and waking...and also that wonderful time between waking and sleeping. I just can't get enough, no matter how much I sleep. It's just...heavenly.

This strange problem doesn't make much sense though, given the rest of my personality. I'm not terribly prone to laziness (my vices lie elsewhere), and when I'm awake, I'm a go-go-go getter. There are never enough hours in the day...except for sleeping, of course.

An old college friend put it well when he said that you'd think getting up would get easier, since we get plenty of practice...what with doing it every day and all. But, not so. Not for us sleepyheads.

I think this morning I discovered the root of the problem. I got up at 4:11 this morning, and it's been great. It may sound strange, being the sloppy sleeper that I am, but once I'm up, I'm up and at 'em. Yes, this morning, I had quite the mission.

In case you hadn't heard, it's election day, and more specifically, it's the day that Amendment 2 will either pass or fail. Joel and I had a number of things on our early-morning agenda: get up at 4 (you'll notice that I still managed to sleep in), go to Immacolata to make a visit to the Pilgrim Virgin of Fatima statue flown in from Portugal just for the vote, pass out "Vote No on 2" brochures for nearly two hours at our polling place starting at 6 a.m., and then go to 8 o'clock mass. We were home before 9 a.m., and I'll say this: I feel great.

Am I tired? Yes. In fact, I think I might go ahead and take an extra nap today (ah, sleep!)...but something got me out of bed this morning and launched me into a wonderful day. After reflecting on this (while doing the dishes after mass), I realized why. I realized the secret: I was convinced of my mission.

I was convinced of my mission for the morning; a mission I believed God gave me. It was up to me: no one else could replace me. And that's what lulled me out of sleep.

So, what do I do now? I suppose the remedy for this sleepyhead is to recognize somehow in that groggy early-morning state that I do, in fact, have a mission. Every day. Maybe my mission for the day is simply taking care of my new baby and doing housework; but it's my mission, and no one else can do it for me.

The battle was won...this morning. Now I'll just pray that, with God's grace, I can win the war.