The three year sleep

I did say I would write about this one. It's about the tiredness that comes from stress - and from living on the edge of burnout and flirting with PTSD. I have this hospital chaplain friend in Wellington. Before we left the capital (Wellington is in New Zealand - I am sure you've figured that out by now especially those about to invade these islands for the Rugby World Cup), I went to visit my friend to say goodbye. It was he who told me about the three year sleep. His friend, a Roman Catholic priest who had been a school chaplain for about the same length of time as me, also went back into church (parish) work. My friend (the hospital chaplain) mentioned this to me as he wondered how I would cope with the move. His friend (the catholic priest) informed him that in his recovery process from school chaplaincy he had slept for the first three years of his parish "job".
No sleeping on the job, they say. I have to say that my plan was to hit the ground "praying" rather than "running". I read a book with that title before coming here. I ended up reading another book on arrival on grief and clergy. Clergy grief - that rare privilege of being able to grieve when you are regularly conduct funerals, for example, of people who are close to you, and you're the one who can not publicly express your emotions. One can understand why - watch the more than unhelpful pastor in the movie 'Eulogy' who falls apart at the grandfather's funeral. It's more than hilarious but also close to the bone.
An astute leader in the church here has mentioned more than once her concern about our grief. When you move you experience grief - the death of an old lifestyle and the loss of relationships that once energised you and brought you joy. She's right of course. We are grieving many losses - through immigration, relocation, and the death of many aspects of innocence - and of course the loss of the exhilarating southerly winds of Wellywood. I jest of course.
The post traumatic stress has eased. A siren today fired up the process again as a reminder that it hasn't totally gone. The things that I have left behind in Wellington which caused deep pain have been a good farewell. My five years at Scots did much to contribute to profound levels of stress. At the same time there were so many highlights and reasons to celebrate along the road. The grief of loss of the energy of the inspiring young men and boys of the College is offset by the occasional call or on-line conversation I have where they tell me how life is going and share some pleasant memory. I will always celebrate their successes.
What does one do about the tiredness? Sleep, mainly. I know I have to pace myself and not be the author of my own demise.
The simple joys - a six month old puppy who shares our journey and happily chews too many things for our good. The coming spring - the sound of the doves in the garden in the morning and the warmth of the sun. Having all my children at home with us - and watching them find their direction and energy again. The discipline of weekly prayer and preaching - trying to open God's word in a community of faithful people. There are many joys as our new life unfolds on this North Shore. And sleep - such a blessing which we are reminded of by the Psalmist: It is in vain that you rise up early and go late to rest, eating the bread of anxious toil; for he gives sleep to his beloved. (127:2)
I can't sleep while speaking in public. I can leave the things too hard for me in the hands of my gracious Father. I tend to leave many things to others now - knowing that I am long past a futile belief that I have some messianic role in the world. I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, but not everything is my responsibility.
So I will be sleeping for the first three years. And beyond. Our keeper neither slumbers not sleeps (Psalm 121:4). We can afford to let go and rest each night - for even if we never wake up in this life again, we are still His.