Today I am gifting myself. In the large scheme of things, it's a small gift. It costs me nothing. I don't even have to leave the house to get it. I don't even have to leave my room. Today, I give myself the gift of sleep.
Sleep has become oddly conceptualized in US culture. It's not something we give everyone. We don't think about it as something we deserve. We certainly don't treat it as something we need. In fact, in many arenas (I have found that graduate school is particularly guilty of this) going without sleep is a badge of honor, something to be proud of, proof that you are working harder, striving longer, doing better than your peers.
For me, however, sleep is another facet of living with fibromyalgia. Living with chronic pain means never being comfortable, which means never quite relaxing, which means never quite resting as well as I should. This means I don't get good sleep. This also means that I reach a point where my body is too tired to go through its daily tasks and, instead, needs to catch up on its sleep. My sleepy days are all about giving up control. They are all about admitting my body's limitations. They are all about admitting that I'm not as healthy as others, that I don't have it all together, that I can't manage on my own. They are about admitting that I need God.
On the numerous days when I do get out of bed, it isn't my own strength that makes it possible. It's His. On the days when I can't get out of bed, it isn't my own strength that keeps me from feeling like a failure. It's His. Everywhere I turn, it is Him, not me, who gets me through.
Who is getting you through today?
2 Corinthians 12: 9
But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made
perfect in weakness."