Blessings

Nightmares are part of a life I came to accept many years ago. Mostly they’re predictable; mostly I awaken knowing exactly what happened, even go to bed  knowing what will happen. Sometimes, there are long periods in between when there will be relief from the episodes, and how I am grateful for those!

Since Jug came to stay 13 months ago, he adapted quickly to the nightmares. Jug was never trained to expect those horrible, middle of the night interruptions – to deal with them, but within 2 weeks of living with me that beautiful, stubborn dog had his part in the action down pat, and I could rely on him leaping on the bed, licking my face until I awoke (Yuck!), then whimpering until I was sitting up, fully awake, fully coherent (well, at least as coherent as I was going to be sans coffee) with the light turned on. I didn’t know how he knew. Maybe I was screaming or crying, but my amazing dog woke me up every single time.

Now, Jug just sleeps on the bed, sometimes at my feet (read that as on my feet), sometimes closer, but always touching me – no jumping required. When those night terrors overtake me, I picture him shocked out of sleep, crawling to the top of the bed and methodically setting to work waking me up. I love that dog!

Last night (this morning) the bad dreams were not the usual. I don’t remember, don’t want to remember, and, I’m guessing there is something in the difference that failed to alert my faithful companion. I awoke on my own, that dreadful, sick, dream hangover already an ache behind my eyes. Every muscle in my upper body screamed with a lactic acid burn as if I’d strained to free myself from that dream, and maybe I had.

Jug snored contentedly, nestled against my leg, and his simple presence gave me an anchor to place and time. I tried those deep breathing exercises that never really work, biofeedback that never really works, then admitting defeat, I climbed out of bed and trod downstairs. I turned on that gorgeously fancy espresso machine – a remnant from my married life – and hit the magic buttons, listened to the grind of the beans, inhaled the smell of the brewing coffee. (For someone who only likes coffee if it has more milk than coffee and more sweetener than a cookie, that machine may be a bit excessive.) I took my cup of instant sanity to the living room and settled into my space on my sofa.

Within moments sounds of a baby elephant hitting the floor came from upstairs. I waited expectantly for Jug to appear; momentarily he vaulted from the landing, clearing the last three stairs with my migraine meds in his mouth. He dropped them in my lap and watched intently as I took them. Job done, he went back up stairs and snuggled back down in my bed, head on my pillow.

So, I sit here, and I contemplate night terrors, dogs the size of baby elephants, coffee, and what they all have in common. If you’d asked me this question this time yesterday I’d probably have shrugged and said not a whole lot. But that was yesterday. So, what’s changed? Great question, and thank you for asking.

Yesterday I heard an incredible message on the Beatitudes and the basic meaning of blessings. What it all boiled down to was this: a blessing is anything – I’m going to say that again – anything – that gives you the opportunity to draw closer to God. Sounds simple, right? But when I sat and pondered it, really, truly pondered it, that bottom-line premise challenged me to rethink the entire foundations my life-view and the occurrences that have led me to this very place.

If blessings are the whispered (or screamed) opportunities inviting us closer to God, then those rockiest of roads must be re-framed, those most painful places must be processed through new paradigms. Maybe you already understood this – had a terrific grasp on this – but for me, this angle of the kaleidoscope is nothing short of revolutionary. The very things that have left me shattered in thousands of tiny piece then discarded on the floor, swept into a dustpan, and tossed into the trashcan are the very things that would make the list of blessings.  Previously, I have been able to see the outcomes of some of these cataclysmic situations as blessings, but the situations themselves?  Well, let’s just say – not so much.  But now…hmmmh…

I don’t know that I’ll find it always (or ever) easy to immediately give thanks for deep emotional slashes when they occur or offer praise joyfully upon awakening from those nightmares when they happen, and rest assured they will continue to happen as we’re promised that this life will not be easy. But, maybe, just maybe, knowing that coming to the end of self is really arriving at the point of blessing will remind me that the God who formed me, knows me, loves me beyond all measure really does “have this,” really does intend any and every scar for my good. And that will be enough.