O Sleep, Why Dost Thou Leave Me?

"I will lie down and sleep in peace,

for You alone, O Lord,

make me dwell in safety."

Psalm 4:8, NIV

I went to bed.
I waited.
I tossed and turned.
Again, I waited.
I shut my eyes, inhaled, and slowly exhaled,
. . . and waited . . . and waited . . . and waited . . .

Despite all the waiting, tossing, and turning, I simply did not sleep a wink that night. Sleep fled the scene because apprehension and concern overwhelmed my senses.

I slid out of bed when, at long last, Manmie lit the kerosene lamp signifying thereby the time for our family devotion had arrived. On that windy morning in January of 1981, the whole family gathered, singing and praying and reading God's Word together. Try as I may, the exact songs and readings have long slipped out of my memory bank. However, the emotion that gripped my heart is as palpable now as it was then.

Fear.

Long after the final Amen was uttered and my siblings had vacated the middle room of our small house, I sat erect and motionless on my chair, dreading the day that lay ahead of me. Manmie, who stayed behind to talk to me, took my face in her cool hands.

"Sa w genyen, ti Lou?" (What's the matter, dear Lou?)

"Do I really have to start first grade today, Manmie?"

"Yes," said she with great tenderness and admiration. "Papi and I are so proud of you!"

I could not bear to receive her compliments right then. So, I clumsily expressed, "I'm afraid, Manmie. I'm afraid the first graders won't like me. I'm afraid they'll call me names and bully me."

"What do you mean, Lou? What names?"

Her questions made me realize I still had not talked to my parents about the bullying and tormenting I endured at school. Deep down, I really wanted to recount to her the horrid tales of my unfortunate young life outside my home. I was dying to reveal to her the terrible aching of my crushed heart and depressed spirit. Nonetheless, I was too afraid to share the intimate notions of my inner self. I made up my mind to lie my way out of that hole. And I did lie, unfortunately, though I cannot remember what fanciful whims I fabricated that morning.

My decision to skirt around the issue was primarily due to my coming face to face with another emotion that had just firmly gotten hold of my heart.

Shame.

For the first time, I realized utter shame coursed through my veins. Barely six years old, shame over my inability to simply tell the truth to my parents had already taken center stage in the drama of my life. I was ashamed of "whatever it was" that inspired the students to bully me. I was ashamed of my uncanny ability to keep those closest to me in the dark regarding the cancer that was ravaging my soul.

Though I knew it not, the deep shame nursed within added yet another emotion to my repertoire.

Loneliness.

I felt lonely.
I felt sickeningly lonely.
I was not alone, but I was lonely in my heart.
I had loving parents, loving siblings, and loving relatives, but I could not get myself to talk to them about my emotions.
I simply did not know how to let them in.
Though what I wanted most was to be known, it was much too vulnerable a choice for me to make.

So, laden with fear, shame, and loneliness, I headed out to L'Ecole Primaire Mixte Bethanie and braced myself for my future in First Grade.

Father, it needed not be that dreadful because You were always there with me. You provided everything I needed but I was so blinded by my fear, shame, and loneliness I failed to look up to Your light placed in front of me to guide my steps. Please strengthen and illumine all Your followers so we will choose faith over fear, Your righteousness over our shame, and Your intimacy over our loneliness. May this follower rejoice in You daily because of the transformation he has been undergoing on this journey of faith!