I can be my own worst enemy - understatement of the year. (And it's only January!) I have so many ideas swirling around that I get sidetracked from just PICKING one and getting to it. Then I want to wait for the *perfect* moment (even now I jumped up mid-sentence to put sweatpants and heat milk for hot chocolate and light a candle...). And ironically, I've probably had tons of perfect moments in the past few weeks (okay, no joke, I just got off this couch FIVE TIMES to perfect this atmosphere. enough. ON TO THE POST), because I've had more rest than I've had... well... ever? Since I was a kid?
We haven't made a silly YouTube video about Chris and Jenna's Big Adventure: The Car Accident yet (hardy... har... har.......), but to sum up for you, a few weeks ago we were on the way to worship band practice on a Sunday morning and got redirected to the sidewalk across the road by a confused elderly man who hadn't noticed a stop sign on his cross-street. A short ER trip and rides from friends later, we were home, Chris with the typical aches, Jenna with some fractured ribs. There goes my "Never have I ever broken a bone" game card.
I had some moments of realization foreshadowing what this month has been like while still on the gurney in the hospital. At one point, they were cleaning a room to get ready for me, and the EMT was gabbing about some really bad crash he'd seen in a nearby room, and people were bustling about... and I was stuck on the ambulance stretcher in a hallway, on my back, by myself. Not much control when you can't get a breath deep enough to call out for someone or to tell them they're still spelling your name wrong. A while later, I was finally in a room, but they had whisked me away from the crash scene without Chris, so I was alone, with no husband, no phone, no pain meds yet, and no method of really remedying any of these things. And I'm ashamed to say how long it took me to realize that in lieu of these things, one thing I COULD do for the pain was to be praying and worshipping. The song that came to mind as I began to do this is called "Be Still," by our lovely friend Jaime Carbo (you want to listen, I promise). And really, it's all I could do - be still on my back and wait. And I could concentrate on the source of Comfort, rather than my discomfort.
For the first week upon release, I had to stay immobile, pretty drugged up and home from everything. I had a slew of amazing caretakers - Chris first and foremost, and others who drove distances and made great sacrifices so I didn't have to be alone when Chris returned to work. If you know nothing about my life, let me sum up by saying a week lying on the couch is NOT how I have spent my time. Ever. You could count some of the time I was home this summer, but I was crazily consumedly crafting (consumedly - a word? it is now - i need it, it's alliteration) for my best friend's bridal shower and other events - in other words, my butt might have been still, but the rest of me and most certainly my mind was not. In the first week of this recovery, narcotics made things a little hazy, but I know it was entirely constructed of rest. Naps. A movie or two. Occasional internet. Relaxed conversation with those who came by. Not moving. Rest.
The next week, by Wednesday, it came time to return to work. "Okay, let's go!" sang bored superwoman Jenna, springing off the couch - I am not a lounge-about kind of girl, give me something to do!!
Fast forward to 3:45 that day, and Jenna hobbled out to her car a half-hour before the work day was over, groaning and pitifully running up the white flag. After a phone call back to the doctor, more drugs, and some ice/heat on the ribs, half-days of work were in order for more of a transition. Look at me, overestimating what I'm capable of - shocker.
So the next week brought alternating days of sleeping in, pjs, long showers, sipping coffee on the couch with my Bible or the computer before rousting myself for work at noon. The other days dragged me (stiffly) out of bed early, but brought me home for lunch and an afternoon of - Rest. Not just rest, but GUILT-FREE rest, because it's exactly what I was supposed to be doing.
This pace of life is unfamiliar and strange to me. And there is something healing in it.
Somewhere in all this, I read this blog post written by a girl who is faithfully observing Sabbath. And the title cut me to the quick: "I Am (Not) Lord." I read of how Kasey ran about like crazy, serving in her ministry and not being "able to afford" to stop, for there was so much important work to be done... and the revealing of how we make ourselves disobedient and "above" a God who rested and made rest for US when we refuse it. It's counter-intuitive to our culture. It's counter-intuitive to my mind.
And turn my nose up at the God who made me when I tell him I don't need His rest, thankyouverymuch.
(And then marvel when I snap at my husband, stay up too late doing nothing but staring idly at a Facebook newsfeed, have no energy to write songs, don't feel like taking care of our house or myself, get insecure about my lack of creativity, grossly envy the gorgeous original songs someone else posts, and inexplicably hit walls of frustration I can't even voice that just make me want to crawl into bed and speak to no one for days.)
PEOPLE - NO LIE - I just tuned into the song that was playing on my iHeartRadio stream and looked up, confronted by the title "Rest Easy" by Andrew Peterson. Never have I heard this song before.
You work so hard to wear yourself down
is what just sang at me out of the TV speakers. Seriously.
I think I picked the right blog post idea. Thanks, God.
I have noticed some of my selfish, greedy tendencies, often brought out by Chris's generosities (God bless marriage for making me holier, if not happy all the time). I have an urge to hoard. To protect. To skimp. And I have been learning how to surrender my heart in some of these areas... but I forget that perhaps one of the things I hoard yet waste most is my time, protectively hunching over it with a resentful, suspicious pout over my shoulder at one who would dare suggest I have time to observe a Sabbath. Do I do fun things? Things that are restful? Sure - but not with the intention of a Sabbath set aside from work. Those fun, rest-like things are events I've organized and crammed into my planner, or else done when I knew I had 5 more important things to do on a Thursday evening and so squandered my time away with the pangs of Guilt weighing it silently down.
Not freedom.
You don't have to prove yourself
You're already Mine
In rest, is freedom. Freedom to allow God to provide for me. To declare that what he has commanded of me and created for me is more important than the plans I design for myself, even those that I think are in line with His will and are meant to serve Him.
upon arrival on our honeymoon - talk about rest!
I'm back at work full time now, so days will not be rampant with restful couch coffee time, free of guilt. And as someone who drags herself crankily out of bed on a Sunday morning to practice with the band for two hours before church starts, helps to lead a church service, may have more band business to attend to after the service for the afternoon, and a small group Bible study in the evening, I cannot realistically call Sunday my "Sabbath" rest. It is still dedicated to the Lord, but it is not true rest.
You're smiling like you're scared to death
You're out of faith and all out of breath
I come before you with this with unclear ideas of how to remedy this. Because truthfully, I am scared. I hold my feeble trappings of this life trembling in my grasp, trying to grip tighter and tighter as they start to slip through the cracks between my fingers. I don't know how to set aside a large chunk time of time to TRULY free my mind from all responsibilities - not checking our band email, not hopping on Facebook/Twitter to update our status, not doing chores or resenting the chores I see undone, not running through my perpetual mental checklist - to give God room to refresh and restore me.
But I know that, despite some excruciating pain and frustration in these past few weeks due to these fractured bones in my body, I have also felt refreshed in ways that I have not in ages.
You don't have to work so hard
You can rest easy
So again, God uses the most unexpected of circumstances to teach me the most unexpected lessons. Perhaps not surprising to the outsider looking in on my life, but to the blind girl running on her hamster wheel living it, the simplest of truths can often knock me off into stillness. And stillness is what I'm praying for - the freedom of resting in God's lordship over my life, presented to Him free of my own agenda for my time, and dedicated to His.
Wow, you nailed it, sister. Great post. If our faith communities gave each other permission for sabbath and rest, we would find ourselves much more creative and much less contentious.
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