The United Kingdom trade show for my work is over and all my colleagues have left to fly back to California. I want to explore serene and green Ireland tomorrow morning and delay my return to the always bustling city of San Fran.
But I’m at the Birmingham hotel awake against my will at 2 am in bed, desperately trying to sleep. When did life become so complicated that I could only think and worry at night?
Growing up, I have so many things I need to do or do better. I’m afraid of unseen things that could happen if I don’t try harder and achieve faster in career, love, and health.
The thoughts torment me until I can’t take it anymore, which marks the moments when I finally understand. When I realize… that I must let it go.
I must humble myself, for I am neither God or even a remotely competent creature. I will give up perfection. I must or I’ll die awake, still anxious and bearing this strange weight. A full responsibility of what’s really nothing. I must pry my fingers off of this false vision of who I could be or get if I did more.
So like a child I will receive what I receive and accept what comes. In my weakness God’s love is made perfect. Maybe that’s what that means; that I’ll drift off in peaceful sleep knowing I couldn’t have done anything more and that what good I have in my life is a gift freely and undeservedly given.
And now I sleep.