Please go to bed...

For twelve years I lived in a county where fireworks were illegal.  Until this afternoon, I failed to appreciate that haven.  I wish the good folk of Fort Wayne would take themselves off to bed!

The fireworks began early this afternoon.  From then on, there has been this steady barrage of pops, crackles, and booms.  Booms loud enough to rattle my windows.  Booms that leave me startled in fear, trembling and shaking.  I have been trying to keep calm, but the unpredictability of my neighbor's enthusiasm for this holiday makes that quite difficult to achieve.  Especially since I am small and weak.

Amos cares not for the celebration either.  For hours, I could not get him to venture outside.  I would drag him there, place him in the yard, and he would immediately dart back inside.  A short while ago, I finally got him to take care of business, but he did so hiding in the tall ground cover I have not yet identified.  I couldn't even see him, he crawled so deep within the greenery.  I wanted to join him.  We both will be glad when the morrow has come and gone.

I wonder why it is that I have found fireworks to be so disconcerting.  In my mind, I tell myself that the noise is not a bomb, is not an attack, is not a sign of imminent danger.  This does not matter.  My body keeps reacting as if none of those things are true...or all of them are...whichever is the better way to describe it.

I have read aloud from my beloved Book of Concord and the Bible.  I have watched Stargate SG1 and Doctor Who.  I have spent time on Facebook. I have listened to rather loud music.  I have played Words with Friends with my dear friend Bettina.  Nevertheless, the booms come and I jump and start and shake and tremble. 

I have been at the mercy of my body for a long while now.  I hate that.  I hate that my body seems more intent on betraying me than serving me.  Silly, I know.  Still, I struggle with the months of nausea, roiling innards, diarrhea, vomiting, and fainting.  I struggle with the weeping and trembling and startle responses.  I struggle with the pain and fatigue.  I struggle with the weakness.  And, in the past two weeks, I struggle with the return of plummeting blood sugar.  I even struggle with the fact that my face breaks out with each new moment of great stress.  I cannot hide my turmoil from anyone...it is literally written across my face.  I am weary of it all.

Here, I sit, at the mercy of my body because of fireworks.  That seems so silly.  That seems so weak.  That seems so stupid.


I am Yours, Lord.  Save me!