Because of Him: Only Two Straight Hours of Sleep

Alma 7:11 - "And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind ..."

This past Saturday marked the beginning of the end. Considering there was only one more conference with which to contend, my coworkers and I were looking at one more week before the benign termination of our summer employment. 

It was rumored that this particular conference was arguable the most difficult to contain, and the check-ins that filled the hours across Saturday and Sunday failed to dispel anything. Come 12:01 AM Monday morning, I was ready to hit the sack and do nothing but sink into an oblivion reserved for the deepest of dreamers.

"Here," one of my coworkers said, unceremoniously depositing one of the two work phones into my hand. "You're on call tonight."

I blinked, my bleary eyes barely registering what had just occurred.

And thus began the night of madness.

Here is where I, operating alone, performed a large number of check-ins from the early evening late into the morning.

There were numerous conference-goers whose flights had been delayed, or who had lost their way, or who didn't particularly care who they woke up so long as they could get into their rented rooms. As it was, I made it home two times before the work phone started ringing and I was required to double back and assist another late-comers with their check-in. After I'd changed into my pajamas and got called back a third time, I gave up trying to go home completely. 

Fitfully napping on some lobby couches that I'd pressed together, I continued to answer calls and let people into their buildings until around 4:00 AM. I then slept, uninterrupted, for two hours, a full hour and thirty-three minutes longer of an opportunity than I'd been given previously. At 6:00 AM, the arrival of custodial crew and the early desk attendant forced me to abandon the lobby and move into an adjourning room, whereupon I curled up under a table and wrapped myself in a tablecloth. I remained there for but a few minutes before the phone started buzzing again, and I continued working until 8:00 AM. It was at that point when I gratefully left the phone with the next on-call individual and slouched on home to bed.

My only friend for the course of that entire night.

All throughout this experience, I was grumpy. I was angry. I was frustrated. I found myself entirely void of pity for any of the late-comers, no mater how desperate or grateful they presented themselves. I found myself resenting their every word as I spoke with them, and at the end of the long and dreadful shift, I could think of nothing but how much I hated every participant in this conference.

When I woke up, however, I felt foolish.

What was this trial? Very little compared to what Christ experienced in the Garden. In fact, He experienced everything I did that night. He experienced my exhaustion, my headache, my fatigue, my disorientation. He experienced my broiling emotions. If there was any sin in these, He paid the price. He also felt what those late-comers were feeling, their anxiety, their weariness, their own fatigue.

And, still, He loved us all.