My Jesus I am tired
Many years ago, I wrote this poem after a long day. The boys were little, and holding my hand as they fell asleep. I was tired and grumpy and I realized that I wanted what they wanted; just a little comfort.
We all get tired. Tired of work, tired of illness, tired of endless political and economic struggles. Tired of arguments and lies. Sometimes, all we can do is hold up our hands to Christ, whose incarnation gave us hands, scarred though they are, to reach and grasp.
My Jesus I am tired
My Jesus I am tired,
and the day has been so long,
and I have done so little well,
and done so much so wrong;
now let me lie within your arms,
or simply hold my hand
and let me cry a little while
and know you understand.
Please kiss me on the forehead
as you turn the lights down low
and lie your face against my own
as off to dreams I go.
Then pull the blankets up around
my neck and hold me tight,
and sit beside my bed and whisper
through the long dark night.
Rest well and sweet dreams,
Edwin
indeed...the kind of tired I feel is from reading about hostile behavior, exposes of high officials who disdain to follow ethical guidelines, leaders who flaunt the law, legislators who roll back personal liberties and then enable the country to become a free fire zone. It's a chronic tired that doesn't get better with a good nights sleep. It's an existential weariness wrought of an endless assault on our democracy.
Oh yes. How many times have I needed a prayer like this and couldn’t even find the words, except to say “hold me Jesus.” (Rich Mullins wrote a song with this very title that I have listened to on repeat a few times.) Your words are very touching and appropriate for these times we live in.