Five o?clock in the morning comes quickly. I try to spring out of bed, but it?s usually a roll. On days in which it is especially difficult to get up, the first thought in my mind is a prayer: ?For You, Jesus.?
I often bump into something as I make my way through the monastery in the dark to the chapel, aided by the fact that I?m not fully awake. I slip my arms in my riassa (a robe for church services that is worn over the basic habit), fumble to tie and button it and feel for the seam in my skufia (a hat worn for church services) so I know which direction to place it on my head. ?Clothe me with Yourself,? I pray. I make the sign of the cross, kiss the icon of Christ the Bridegroom at the door of the chapel and step into the room that is the most familiar and comforting of the whole monastery, even in the dark. I light the candles hanging in front of the icons of Christ and the Mother of God, and then replace and light the candle in the little vigil lamp next to the tabernacle. The red glow of the gently flickering candles reminds me of a heartbeat. Jesus, my Bridegroom, is present here and has been waiting for me. I try to set aside my anxieties about the day that have already started to creep into my mind and heart. I place them before Jesus