I remember saying to God late one evening and during a particularly long season of indecision, "Please! What are You saying? I need to hear from You." I slid down the wall I was leaning against to a sitting position on the floor, knees to chest; more from relief that the day was ending, than from lack of strength. "Go to bed," I heard resounding in my heart, not in my ears; the location where my "knower", as Dave Bishop used to call it, resides; from whence I say I know that God is speaking to me. I laughed out loud, then gathered myself up and did just that. "The Almighty will be up all night, anyway," someone has already said. "May as well let Him worry about it." Tonight, I know that I should do the same. I'm not staying up because I have things to do. Rather, I'm refusing to go to bed, under some sort of delusion that if I refuse to end this day, perhaps tomorrow won't come.
I know. It's production week. This sort of just-before-birth resistance is normal. But there are still details that need attention, details that require focus and energy, and so I live in this self-inflicted tension. We creative types agree to these things because we love them, so there is no need for sympathy--not that you were offering. We know what we're signing up for... Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to the morning after the two big performances with great anticipation. Which reminds me of one more important detail: I need to get an enthusiastic clean-up crew in place.
And it's the tomorrow that's full of things. Good things, but pressing. And there is an increase of desire to be freed from the "pressing."