A long time ago, I watched an interview of a mountain climber. I have forgotten most of her words, but I keep remembering her. She had finished the day’s climb, and she was sitting, a mile high, in her portaledge--a flimsy, hammock-like thing tethered to the mountainside. She sat on its very edge, legs dangling over nothingness, the way I sit on the edge of the dock after a swim. When the interviewer asked her what she liked about sleeping in a portaledge, she said that sometimes the wind at high altitudes is so strong that it flips the portaledge upside-down and full-circle. The whole time, her eyes were shining like Christmas morning. Sometimes, when I am brave enough to let go of the illusion of control for a few minutes, my eyes shine that way, too.
“This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike, ‘What’s next, Papa?’” Romans 8:15, The Message
“O Lord, . . . put away from us worry and every anxious fear, that, having ended the labors of the day as in your sight, and committing our tasks, ourselves, and all we love into your keeping, we may, now that night comes, receive as from you your priceless gift of sleep; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.” Book of Common Prayer