4:22 a.m.
My feet start shuffling beneath the covers, struggling to move the rest of me towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. Returning to bed, I look at the clock. I am thankful to have a couple more hours before it’s time to get up and stay up in order to get ready for a choral workshop at St. David’s.
But I am on Prednisone…have been for a week and a half now and will be on for another week. For anyone who knows this drug as well as I do (along with my fellow MS buddies), getting any decent amount of sleep is a challenge for which there is no solution short of another handful of other kinds of pills; and at 4:22 a.m. it’s too late/early for that.
5:35 a.m.
I give up. The night is over. Now my feet are skipping towards the kitchen to make coffee; my mind, on the other hand, is dragging and cursing the shortness of the night.
I am used to this.
The kitchen is still dark, but a faint yellow glow glimmers through the window over the sink. Looking out, I get another kind of wake-up call…the kind that humbles me and tells me to be a little more thankful for life and breath, for the moments that are ever so brief and beautiful.
Sister moon-glow and her twin moon-reflection on the water blesses me. Some human on this earth needed to witness and receive the gift at this hour. I’m glad it was me.
Battling an MS flare is the absolute antithesis of a having thankful “moment.” Yesterday was my 13th “diagnostic” anniversary. It is one of those calendar dates that no matter how hard you try to ignore, it holds a banner over every step you take. This year, a flare-up made that date slap me around a little more than usual.
This morning as I begin my 14th year of living with MS, I am reminded that living on this earth is more than a personal battle. It is recognizing that although you might not be happy to be wide awake at 5:35 a.m. there could be a divine purpose in it …even if it is just to be the one person on earth to view the moon’s reflection on the water outside your window; and to be thankful for a gift that could have been given to anyone, but you were the one chosen to receive it.


























Deb –
This is just beautiful. All your friends wish we could have been there with you to share your pain and the glory of your moon.
(And thanks for putting “Francesca” on your night table!)
Tom