Something happens to me at night. It started when I was a kid. There was a place I’d go, a place inside my head and heart; a place only occupied by me and God. I’ve always gravitated to the night naturally because of it. It felt like a portal would open and I’d retreat into a place made specifically for me. For me, and my thoughts, and God.
Adulthood has removed me from that place a bit. But tonight, the portal is open. I can feel it. It only happens at night. The space between my reality and my desires, where I’d ponder and pray. I can see clearly here, and I can hear just as clearly. The door to enter is rarely open these days. Or maybe I’m just to preoccupied to notice it as much.
I noticed that access to it either comes when my spirit is completely calm or when it’s completely unsettled. It’s like Holy Spirit knows what I need and when I’m ready to enter, so He leaves the door ajar, just enough for me to notice it. If I stall too long to enter, it closes but if I’m in distress my desperation can open it when I need it.
I’ve always preferred the night because of it. This place. I know that being a morning person is the accepted characteristic of successful people, and I’ve attempted to become one countless times but the night always calls me. I love the night because there is no guarantee of others waking and interrupting me. The night is where the world around me sleeps, leaving me and God to just be. It’s where I whisper my secrets and share my deepest pain to The Most High. The night holds my deepest desires. I was born at night, and every time I enter this place of peace and solitude I am born again. I come alive, the truest version of me comes to life because there’s no inhibitions that prevent me from showing up completely. I spend most of the day tucked in the proper places. In this space, every inch of me hangs out and I am unashamed.
Tonight I sit in this place, pondering the reason for its beckoning.
I know that there are some hard conversations coming soon and some curiosity lingering in my mind about a random message I received earlier. My hair is washed and dried, my scalp greased and hair put away; a ritual that reminds me that I’ve taken care of myself. I am at ease. I feel calm, but something tells me I should be worried. A side effect of survival.
Surviving is something I did for years and grew comfortable with. Surviving, that feeling of aching and striving for something better gave me something to look forward to. I’m learning that I don’t have to survive to look forward to good things. I can anticipate from a place of peace and calm. I used to do that when I was a kid. Anticipate, imagine, dream. I feel emotional thinking about it. I dreamt all the time. I dreamt of singing, and writing, and traveling, …and love. Now I dream about children and family. Much simpler things now but things I am also learning to anticipate from peace instead of survival. Yes, I am a survivor of loosing both children and family, but I guess now I am finally at peace with both.
This is the reason why my place is open tonight, for me to give thanks and rest in this new peace. This place of acceptance with peace.
I told my therapist that I finally feel free to be at peace with my losses. I was feeling shame for the losses before, but actively working through my grief with prayer and counsel has freed me to peace. Thank you Abba Yahuah. I needed it desperately. I wasn’t breathing and now I can breathe deep. Thank you.
Thank you for this place. Thank you for the peace. Thank you for what was and thank you for what will be. Thank you for the space to anticipate with peace. Thank you for the night.
Love, Jenise La Vonne 💕
