I did something last week that I have never done before.
Or if I had… didn’t cognitively know that I was doing it…and now, that it is seven days later I feel restored a bit. Not so tattered at the edges like a piece of paper wadded up from too much usage.
Last Sunday night I was going to sit down and write before we headed to the grand reopening of Hot Yoga here in Nashville…my good friend Susannah had bought it and Seth and I were eager about seeing all the changes…well, let me rephrase that— I think he was excited about beer and Mexican food and I was enthusiastic to see the new studio. But in the midst of chasing Roman around with fiber as we are off to see the doctor this week since that boy seems plugged like a good bottle of 1932 wine—he’s bound to explode with all the raisins,fiber bars, and prunes I have shoved down his mumbly mouth.
Anyhow, in the midst of last Sunday it was beautiful,sunny outside—just a gorgeous, ethereal day..but I had to deal with some bad news that morning—that’s the best way I know to put it—good ole fashion disappointment. So even though it was radiant outside, I felt a thunderstorm brewing inside of me. All that to say, when I sat down at the computer the words wouldn’t come. It’s like I tried to swim but I couldn’t leave the shore..there were no words to keep me afloat. I would sit and stare at the white screen then I’d get up with a vacant heart and a roaming mind that wouldn’t give way to words—just void-just echoing muteness. This is so not me—I am the one that has too many things too say,too many gerbils in my head running around,the one leaving too long of a voicemail that you probably delete after the first 15 seconds–just ask my husband he’ll tell you I am never lacking for sentiments or ideas. But last week was different I was quiet outwardly and inwardly. And it kind of felt good. Real good.
So somewhere around Monday morning as I opened up my new light that was supposed to look like this:
Yet…I when I unwrapped it I realized I was in charge of hanging every degbalsted one of those glass links…I decided after counting all of them that I would write ..well, when I was ready.
I know this is going to sound selfish at first glance,no doubt. But I needed a week for me. The carafe of my life was empty and I needed the silence to fill it back up even if it meant while putting up 250 glass links. It’s like when you get on the airplane and the noisy, boisterous, way- too- into- her -job attendant tells you in case of a crash put the oxygen mask on yourself before your child. Now, that sounds 24 kinds of wrong when you first hear it, but you can’t save anyone when you are passed out, blue lipped, and crumpled up in your seat. So, I guess you could say I put my mask on…because I was out of air.
You see, I hate people full of self-pity…we all have our own crap for lack of better words. So in order for me to fight that demon of loathing, I have come to realize that I have to “actively rest”–as much of an oxymoron that it is. And that is what I did last week–i actively rested.
I hung my blessed new dining room light, I put Roman’s train track together for him since he has moved on to a new “Thomas the Train” obsession, I edited some pieces for, signed up for my Amherst writers circle, I ate dinner with my girlfriends, I made this killer tortilla soup, I read my Diethrich Bonhoffer book, I loved on my dramatic,yet sick husband(you know how men can be when they are sick…God bless them if they ever had kids—this world’s population would be cut in half!), and I even spent all day Thursday just Roman and I—we went swimming indoors, we read, we ate a whole basket of strawberries on the couch on our pajamas, and we might have just gone to get ice cream in 32 degree weather.
And in the midst of a ho-hum Friday morning…sitting in the dining room,trying to somehow capture on camera Roman doing his white boy dance in his pajamas while watching Thomas and eating breakfast…
I came to an epiphany.
I came to a changing place. Like when a train changes tracks. Same train. Different direction.
I came to realize that when you choose to actively rest—whether that means for you—being single,yet wanting to be married, being heartbroken and wanting to heal, being angry and wanting answers, being hurt and wanting to forgive, or for me being sad, yet hopeful—God meets you there. And not only does He meet you there, but there is a side effect of actively resting.
You become content with where you are.
Now that is a phrase that is thrown around like a bad disease. I can just hear someone saying, “be content with where you are, Lindsay…” and then I picture myself deckin them where it hurts (just being honest). I hate it when someone tells me to do that…I got,it, I got it. I need to be content. But I don’t want to be. I want God to change my circumstances now…so back off!!
But as I sat there bundled up with chocolate ice cream oozing out of the sides of my mouth,looking at Roman’s big brown,expressive eyes, I realized I had spent an entire week just being where I am. Not looking back. Not looking forward. Just being a 33 year old woman that wants the most out life in a random week in February 2011. And it was glorious.
I don’t know what the future holds,I don’t know when change is comin’, nor do you.
But if you and I can’t take ahold of where we are right now, in this very moment—the good and the bad, then I dare say our train will never leave the station of life. It’s like you are pushing down on the pedal with all your might while your car is turned off—there’s just now power in that. You will have gone nowhere fast.
There is an odd power in being content with just where you are. The freedom that comes with being content with where you are is ironically the only thing that has the ability to move you forward…
Thank you,God, that even though I don’t get you at times, You love us and You want to take us on the ride of a lifetime.