I finally signed up as an adorer in the Perpetual Adoration Chapel. I decided on the midnight hour that had been vacant for months. When the Effervescent Priest pleaded again for volunteers, I felt that I could be very-very-helpful to him somehow, and maybe he wouldn't always look so tired. So I asked first thing on Monday. The substitute secretary said "Absolutely!" but the people she told me to call said that it had already been taken. I could have the next opening, 4-5 am; it would be even more difficult, and even more very-very-helpful, than 12-1. If I had received 12-1, I could have simply stayed up a little later past bedtime, and come home to bed at 1:30. But 4-5! After that shift, there wouldn't be much time to finish sleeping, and just a few hours to sleep before! I could be even more very-very-helpful than I had dreamed!
All week long, I worried.
For several nights leading up to it, I barely closed my eyes. If I slept all night on a Wednesday or Thursday, I might miss waking up at 3 on Sunday morning!
On Saturday I began to panic. I checked my alarm every hour to be sure that it was set to ring at 3. I would need to get up at 3, so I could start a pot of coffee, drink 2 cups, eat cereal, and then, because of the coffee and cereal, I would have time to spend in the bathroom. (I absolutely must not need to use the bathroom during adoration. I absolutely must not even think of it.)
My cellphone is so good at waking me up in the mornings. I can sleep through the regular clock; it works itself into the tapestry of my dreams, as a singing bird or the burglar alarm in a grocery store, and I won't even know it happened. But my cellphone! I am terrified of phones. I always wake up, all the way up, when the phone rings. It deprives me of my peace. It means that someone demands to talk to me, and I have to decide whether or not I want to talk to them. I don't want, but I must, though I may wait and listen to them on voicemail to see if it is something I can deal with right now, or if I need to prepare a speech first. And someday, what I think is my cellphone alarm will actually be a phone call that will need to be dealt with right away or they wouldn't be calling so early.
Then I discovered a fantastic trick. I could set my alarm to ring weekly at 3 am! I would never have to worry about forgetting to set an alarm for adoration again! I had marvelous technological skills!
I even prayed to Jesus to help me wake up. Somebody did that once, and wrote a book about it, and even though I thought it was silly...anything to help.
I woke up every half hour, then every hour, then every other hour. I stirred out of a vague dream, I think there were sheep in it, or maybe children, or a shopping cart, and someone was singing a sappy song about how "The Father is Calling". If it was getting close to 3, I would just as soon get up; I was tired of being tired, going to sleep and popping awake again. I ought to just try to sleep; the phone would ring. There was no way I could oversleep the ringing.
It was 4:30. I was not a technological genius. I had no idea how to make the phone ring weekly at 3 am. I also had no idea what to do. It was too early to be emotionally worked up, but it would happen, any moment. It takes 20 minutes to drive to church. By the time I arrived there would be nothing left to do. I had a one hour shift. The hour would be over. And I would be despised, and fired, and my baptism would be revoked, and I wouldn't be allowed to eat paczkis again.
I would go. I would get dressed quickly and...but there was no use! Nothing could be done. No, I could do something. I would face whoever had waited and waited for their replacement. The Effervescent Priest, maybe. Then he would hate me. Perhaps a freak accident would have left a broken handrail that I could impale myself on in order to express my sincerity; at least he would know I was sorry. But priests can't hate people. Maybe some do. I was already halfway there; what a pleasant drive it seemed! No traffic, no red lights. If only the circumstances were more favorable.
Along the way, I explained to the sluggish atmosphere of the carpeted ceiling (cautiously, with the understanding that I am superfluous and I blow away very easily), that God was supposed to wake me up. It was partly my fault; I didn't specify what time; though I really shouldn't have had to...so no, it wasn't my fault. But if I had set a backup alarm! Then I wouldn't have been failed so miserably by the cellphone which never failed. So yes, my fault. What an idiot. As though the Essential Existence was an alarm clock.
I wouldn't think about it, though. I needed to look sorry, but not disastrous. The tears were already inventing themselves. I found one napkin in the backseat, a flimsy, narrow napkin from an icecream cone. It melted quickly, like the icecream. I hadn't brushed my teeth. I couldn't, I was too late! But it would have made apologizing easier. Now I would have to manage not to dissolve in snot, AND to talk without breathing. It was too early in the morning for them to expect anything else. So I had a week of anxious nights culminating in bitter failure that wasn't even strictly my fault.
I apologized to the nice man (who was not the Effervescent "I-am-not-a-morning-person" Priest) who replaced me. Nobody fired me. I stayed 5-6 instead. I will eat paczkis again. Maybe I will even have green beer.
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