Fatigue and Fatigues
Shortly Sean and I will be living to catch a plane to Boston. Knowing I did not have to get up this morning and work, I stayed up super late….doing work. My sleep afterwards was intermittent as Henry was up to some unusual antics. Combine that with getting up early to pack, I did not get much sleep last night.
In my Out of State Ian Fund Efforts post from Colorado, I talked about the practice of offering trials up. There is another thing I find myself doing during trying times– I think about the men of D-Day.
For example, when I used to be terrified of flying (and why was I so scared? It had nothing to do with death– I was scared that I or someone was going to… throw up) and our flight hit turbulence, I would think about all the paratroopers and pathfinders flying in the wee morning hours and all the uncertainty and flak and erratic bumps they had to face.
Last weekend while hiking in the Smokies with a heavy pack, I found myself rattling on to Mike about how the D-Day soldiers carried packs that were 60 pounds. Not only did they carry a lot more weight that I, they were doing so through water and sand and had death-inducing machine gun fire to contend with.
Finally, the example that applies today! On days where I am lacking sleep, I think about how in the months preceding the D-Day invasion, Dwight Eisenhower only got 2 hours a sleep a night. If Eisenhower can plan the most complicated amphibious invasion in history with consistent fatigue, then I can certainly suck it up for one work day.
There are times, though, where my Eisenhower thought does not work. Here is a barely legible quote from my November 11, 2005 journal. It was written when Mark and I foolishly took a flight that left Las Vegas at 1 AM and had to switch planes at both Minneapolis and Detroit before arriving in Roanoke. As Bill C so aptly summed up, “If you are going to take a red-eye, make sure it is a direct flight!”
~6:20 AM CST
In the months preceeding the D-Day Invasion, Dwight Eisenhower got about 2 hours a sleep each night. I’m trying to imagine planning and strategizing the way I feel now.
Dwight wins. I’m exhausted!
Is it blasphemous of me to think about the D-Day soldiers instead of Jesus suffering on the crucifix? I hope not. I find the tales of these soldiers to set a slightly more obtainable precedent. These are not feats the son of a diety performed. These are feats of mere mortals. Not just that, some of these mortal men were only 17, 18 and 19 years old. These were the feats of “mortal kids”.
So I get to ask myself– if mortal kids can face what they faced, then what’s my excuse? :)