By Betsy Gonwa, 
I hear the sound of baby Mary crying through the monitor, and dutifully go upstairs to listen at her door. When I realize this is not one of the times that she will fall back asleep on her own, I gently push open the door and enter the darkened room, reach down into the crib and pull her into my arms, wrapping a quilt around her, in preparation for sitting together in the rocking chair where the window air conditioning unit will blow cool air toward us.
My feet propped on a footstool, I sing, “Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry, go to sleepy little baby.” It’s not too long before she is asleep again. We rock awhile, in the peaceful quiet space of the nursery room, its lime green walls appearing as a soft shade of gray in the darkness created by the pulled shades on this sunny afternoon. I am surprised at how little effort it takes to get her back to sleep.
As I continue to rock with her, and she easily transitions back into sleep, I am also thinking of the time and place we are in as a nation and as a global society right now, with the COVID-19 pandemic and the murder of George Floyd and the protests.
How easy it can be to fall back asleep! For a moment, I am afraid. Afraid that falling back asleep may come as easily for our nation as for Mary. I hear my heart crying, “No, please no!” and my thought becomes a prayer, “Let us stay awake! Please!”
Mary’s eyelashes, soft upon her skin and her gentle, regular breathing are a living image of what I don’t want to happen. I do not want this time of awakening to end. I want to see lasting impact. I want to see new structures rise from the pain and grief of these days. I want the nation to stay awake. I want to stay awake!
I realize my prayer is like Jesus’ request to his disciples in the garden, “Stay awake.” Over the years, these words have been interpreted in the literal sense, inviting the disciples to pray with Jesus through the night, and also in the spiritual sense. Accompanied by Jesus, the disciples have been awakened, and his words are to alert them to the danger of falling back asleep.
As I shut the nursery door behind me, I realize that both definitions of staying awake apply to our situation today. It is not just through this dark time that we are called to stay awake. We are being called to keep our eyes open to the awareness that has been raised. We are being offered an opportunity to move forward in our lives from this new place of consciousness. We are witnesses of injustice and awake to the need for justice. This is what I want us to stay awake to.
With Mary sleeping again, I walk down the stairs, and meet the sun streaming through the window on the landing. I am again challenged. To speak in the light what I have heard in the dark, another scripture verse. I begin to imagine what staying awake as a nation will look like and also what my part is. I pray for compassion. I want us to support one another as we grieve, to encourage one another to persevere. I want us to hold each other and ourselves, not in a way that will lull us back to sleep, but in a way that will hold us accountable to the truth that lives in our hearts, and to stay awake. For as long as it takes to bring about lasting change, yes, and even more, I pray that the awareness of our connectedness and our interdependence will stay alive in our hearts and draw us into a new way of living.
What does staying awake look like for you?
