Friends, dogs and prayers at 3:30 a.m.

(Sometimes early mornings are great. It's quiet, and I like that. But sometimes, it's the perfect time for The Worries to attack and once they do, it's almost impossible to stop them.)


It was 3:30 in the morning, and I couldn’t sleep.

The dream I’d been having wasn’t pleasant, but it didn’t rise to the level of a nightmare. I’ve had those, and this wasn’t Steven King-ish in the least. Still, I was plenty upset at that early hour and sleep wouldn’t come so I resigned myself to the thoughts that sat waiting for an invitation.

First up was a review of the dream. I was driving behind a semi-truck that decided to back up without warning. I jumped out of the car and the truck kept coming and before I knew it, the front part of our Mercury Marquis was smooshed against a gray brick building. Hubby was going to be furious.

As I watched the truck change direction and drive away, I knew the next step was to call the police. When I grabbed the cell phone from my purse, it fell apart in my hands. It was totally useless.

In this dream I’d been at a house where a few family and friends were gathered, along with all of their dogs, including Sarah Jane. When I walked in the door to find someone to help me with the wrecked car, I noticed one thing immediately: there was undeniable proof that no one had bothered to let the pooches outside to relieve themselves. It was then that I woke up.

The next thought came quickly and I knew it was because the news had come as such a shock a few weeks back. A good friend, a talented and compassionate friend is facing a life-altering change that has rocked her world and the world of those who love her. I’m sure I’m not the only one who goes to bed and wakes up thinking about what’s happened and wondering what will come next.

I checked the bedside clock and noticed that a half an hour had passed. At 4:01 a.m. my thoughts turned toward Sarah Jane. There had been more seizures, more fear and worry, and the feeling of utter helplessness that turns me into a basket case.

On a late afternoon while hubby was away from the house, Sarah came to the side of my chair like she often does. She sat, and after a minute or so she went into a fly-biting episode. She was in a place I couldn’t go; she was all alone and I sat helpless while she tried to find her way back to me. Eventually, she did.

An appointment was made at the vet to draw blood, and I posted Sarah’s condition to a special place on the Internet that’s devoted to our canine companions. Within an hour, she had over 20 e-mails from her doggy friends around country. “Paws crossed in prayer,” most of them read, and I cried. More e-mails arrive daily, and I’m thankful.

Still, we won’t have the results of Sarah’s blood tests until next week, and the waiting is nerve-wracking.

By the time I was done maneuvering the minefield of thoughts that morning, it was close to 4:30. I woke for the day at 5:15.

Those early morning worry times are hard on a person, and I know many of you out there go through the same thing. How could you not when we’re all bombarded with crises that are out of our control? When there’s nothing at all you can do to change the situation, when all you can do is watch like a spectator in the stands?

Besides prayer, which is a big thing to me and something I practice throughout the day, there is one other thing I do to relieve the stress of those early-morning freak-out episodes. I try to remember to go to my Happy Place – a special part of my heart and mind where I keep pleasant memories. Those include hours spent in a bookstore, writing with a friend, meals out with hubby, chasing Sarah through the house, time at work with colleagues who never fail to make me laugh at least once a day – memories that help keep the monsters at bay for a little while at least.